Never Heroes: Act I

Chapter 3

Never Heroes

Act I

III: Punches

"No way, dude!"

"Come on, Doug! As a favor?"

"No! What are you doing here, anyway? I gave you two weeks off!"

Emily wasn't sure whether to sigh or curse. Of course Chip had offered the job without considering how Doug felt about it. Although he wouldn't admit it, Emily had a feeling Doug couldn't exactly afford to pay another person. Chip was doing his best pleading voice but Doug remained uninterested. She doubted they knew that she heard every word. Sound traveled easy in a hundred year old house that hadn't been taken care of in generations.

From her spot inside Doug's kitchen she could see the two friends arguing in front of the shop. Doug wasn't even facing Chip. He had defiantly crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back on Chip. Somehow, he must have felt her eyes on him as he looked up. Through that dirty, broken window, eye contact was made. It was fleeting; he quickly focused his eyes elsewhere. That was all the proof she needed that she wasn't welcomed.

Her attention turned to the several decade old fridge, stained yellow from years of use and abuse. Ever since they were children, everyone in town knew you could always find a beer in the fridge at Doug's house. Sometimes, that's all there was. Even after his uncle passed on and Doug had taken over, it was often stocked with a wide selection of brew. So it wasn't the least bit surprising when she opened the door to find a half-eaten sandwich, a carton of eggs, and about thirty bottles of beer waiting for her.

Voices from the doorway reached her ears when she got her head out of the fridge. They were still arguing; or, rather, Chip was begging while Doug repeated the same lines over and over. Before they reached the beaten tile of the kitchen floor, she reached back in and grabbed two more bottles. Their argument was interrupted when she jingled them together and said, "You guys want a beer?"

That was how they ended up huddled on the torn and tattered couch with over a dozen empty bottles piled up on the floor. It didn't matter that it was only 9:00am; it wasn't like they had anything to do that Monday morning, anyway. Besides, it gave them a good opportunity to get used to each other again. The three of them hadn't been in the same room together since Chip was married, and that was five years ago.

Something must have reminded Chip of that, despite it never being mentioned. During a lull in conversation, he suddenly broke into a fit of tears and uncontrollable sobs. Emily didn't try to console him at all; she never touched him, unless it was to kick his ass. Doug panicked and dropped his beer. At first, he jumped back and forth between cleaning the foaming mess and comforting his friend. In the end, soothing his friend won out. What was another stain in that shoddy carpet compared to the state of his pal?

Vibration in Emily's pocket signaled a call. Without hesitating she took it. It offered a good excuse to step away from the awkward blob of tears and snot on the couch. Unlike her usual self, she didn't even bother to check to see if it was a number she recognized.

"Hello?" she answered just as she stood up from the couch.

"Hel – is that Chip crying?" the caller said.

The voice was unmistakable. "How did you get my number, Walter?"

He chuckled, "I have my ways." To this, she said nothing, but she hoped her glare could be heard through the distance. He continued, "I was thinking about what Chip was saying the other day. You know, about Interfector?"

"You can be f*****g serious? We went over this. It didn't happen."

Again, he couldn't help but laugh at her. "Well, it's easy to accept within the realm of possibilities that there are alternate worlds or dimensions out there, right? I think we can figure out the mathematical or scientific formula, we could weaken the barriers between those worlds. Maybe even open up a gate."

She hung up. "End Call" was smashed repeatedly. Walter had always been the levelheaded mature one. There was no reason for him to researching alternate worlds just because his best friend was losing his mind. So what if somethings didn't quite add up, like the birthmarks and faded skin tone? Holes in her memory banks from her childhood were just due to a bad combination of too much booze and a lot of stress. Brainwashing and mind control didn't play a factor in any of it.

"He must have a really boring job if that's what he does all day," she said aloud.

"Who?" Doug asked.

"Walter."

Explanations were needed from both parties yet both refused to speak. It had always been that way between them. Both were aware of this and had thought it was time to fix it, but neither wanted to be the first. They were always struggling to be better than the other.

A stiff, awkward silence entered the room as Chip got control of himself. Doug asked if he was alright, which he assured them both he was. Then, a quiet conversation between the two boys began. Emily kept her distance, feeling rather unwelcomed in their little circle. She couldn't blame them. No matter the strength of friendship in teenager years, it's not always fated to last when time and distance become a factor.

Again, her phone rang. This time, she checked the number. The area code belonged to that town and something told her it was Walter again. Against her inner wishes, she answered, "What?"

"Not too interested in my theories, huh?" he said. She could just feel his smirk through each word.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like work? I thought you said you had an office job?"

"Yup. Just a boring office job," he answered.

Involuntarily she snorted at his response. "Oh? What kind? Enough for a fancy car?"

"I do… networking – look, it's not important," he hurried.

"It's kind of important," she said, her voice harsh but laced with a laugh. "Or, what, you think it's okay to lie to me now? What are you, a drug dealer?"

"What?! No, that's Doug! Dealing drugs isn't very profitable, you know? Can we just focus on this Interfector thing for a moment?" he demanded. It was clear his patience was running thin and his work was a subject he wanted ignored.

"Doug's a drug dealer?! What the f**k?!"

"Oh, boy – "

That was the last two words Walter was able to get through the phone line before Emily ended the call. Doug had heard the outburst and was standing and ready when she turned back to face him. If her stomp before speaking was any indication, she wasn't happy. "What the f**k, Doug?! Is he serious?!"

He had his hands up in surrender when he said, "I don't make enough money in this dead shop, alright? But there's a college thirty minutes away where a lot of bored party kids could use a lift. It's not a crime!"

"Actually, it is," Chip said. For a moment they were dragged from their argument at the sound of his voice.

Doug was the first to recover. He said, "Judge all you want, but I'm just trying to get by."

"Then go do something about it! Get out of town, take initiative!" she yelled.

"And that worked so well for you, didn't it? Isn't that why you're at my house, drunk, homeless, and unemployed?"

All the fight in her left. He was right. It was clear he struck the right chord immediately. Hostile posture was replaced with a defeated air. Fists were lowered and her eyes gazed toward the floor. Silence settled. Panic hit Doug hard in the chest and he scrambled to think of a way to apologize once he realized how strong of a verbal smack he had landed.

"I'm leaving," she announced.

"Oh, no, no. No you're not. You're not safe to drive, girly," Doug said.

There was no thought behind his actions when he reached out and snagged her wrist when she tried to walk by. Within a flash her fist connected with the side of his head. Time disappeared for him as be blacked out for a few seconds. He woke up on the floor, having crashed his shoulder into the coffee table before he hit the dirty carpet. Weakness wasn't something he wanted to show, so despite his vision being blurred and his ears ringing, he managed to get up.

Carefully he touched the spot where her fist had made contact. A small lump had started to form. He whined, "Ouch! You still punch harder than most dudes! Do you still punch people this often, too?"

"Yeah, she hit me the other day," Chip admitted. It came across more amused than anything, and the others marveled at how quickly his mood had changed in the past five minutes.

Her attention turned to Chip when she shouted, "People are following you around because you're dealing drugs! The f**k happened to you? Did you fry your f*****g brain or something? You probably didn't even notice Sarah was suffering because you weren't f*****g there!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Doug shouted. Roughly he snagged the collar of her shirt and he mentally high-fived himself for not accidentally groping her in the process. The move managed to startle her into a hush. "Leave the kid alone! Can't you tell he's going through enough s**t without you reminding him? Say another word and it's my turn to punch someone!"

"You wouldn't!"

Never one to get caught in a lie, Doug reeled back and landed a decent hit right on the corner of Emily's mouth. It stung. A tooth cut her lip but there wasn't any other damage. Unperturbed, she wiped the blood away and said, "You still punch weaker than most girls."

Next was a stare down. Neither was willing to back down. The "bzzt, bzzt" her cellphone vibrating woke something up in Doug's brain and he released her. As his attention went to cleaning up the beer bottles, Emily answered her phone for the third time with an angry, "I don't want to f*****g hear about it, Walter!" His sigh signaled she should probably listen. Besides, talking hurt a hell of a lot right then.

"Listen, I know it's totally crazy. I'm not really buying it, either. But, can we at least try? Just for Chip's sake. Right now, he doesn't really have anything. Just us. Just those memories. I know, I know. Why don't we just say we did but not waste our time? But, you know me – "

"You wouldn't lie like that, I know," she said. The soft, quiet tone in her voice was partially due to the resignation and partially due to her swollen lip.

She could hear him smile when said, "Exactly! I was thinking, though, maybe a quicker way to figure this out. As fun as figuring out how to open a portal to another dimension sounds, I'm going to check into the state's records for us. Maybe even at the federal level. I'll search for Interfector, too. Data's never really truly lost, you know? Oh, crap. Gotta go!"

It was good timing. Something cool touched the open sore on her lip. A beer bottle was being presented to her. Soothed, she leaned into the wet, chilled glass of the brew. Finally, her hand grabbed the offer and she turned to see that it was Doug presenting it to her. Ashamed, he couldn't even make eye contact. All he could do was mutter, "Sorry. I'm just upset."

"It's okay. We all are," she assured him. The hit didn't hurt enough for her to bother with. Tomorrow, it would be almost completely healed. A swift sip was swallowed then she asked, "I know I was a total b***h and didn't let you play, but do you remember anything about the Interfector game? I can't seem to recall anything."

Interfector was like a trigger word for Chip. He had bounded off the couch and nearly crushed everyone together as he leapt at them. "What?! Doug was totally there! He took an arrow in the heart to protect you, how do you not remember?"

"Dude, not cool," Doug said as he physically shoved Chip away. "That's cute you're trying to turn my drunk dad's attempt to murder me into a heroic tale of self-sacrifice, but that's not how it went."

"Besides, if it was the heart, wouldn't he be dead?" Emily argued.

"It pretty much did hit my heart, lady! That bullet blew a hole right through some arteries, you know!"

"You've told this story a hundred times, Doug. And I don't feel any more sorry for you know than I did when I was ten. Give it a rest," Emily teased.

"See? Now why would I want to go and take an arrow to the freakin' heart for a girl like this? She's ruthless!"

"That was the moment you guys became friends, though. Don't you remember?" Chip asked.

They shared a look between each other. "Friends" was always a word they quietly acknowledged but never spoke out loud. Through all the light teasing and heavy fights, they had often wondered how they became close at all. Even when she dug through her deepest memory banks, she couldn't recall the exact moment. Isn't that the way it worked, though? One day you just realize how perfect you fit together as partners in crime, so there you are for the rest of your life? It's never a single moment or a day that has somehow retained importance more than others. Every seconds counts.

Forced, awkward laughter flew out of Doug's mouth. "You really are going crazy, pal!" he said. Something about his tone and attitude made Emily question whether Doug was a believer or not. Perhaps, they were all going crazy. Life has a tendency to make you feel mad sometimes, this she had learned many times over already.