Joe Hardy hates this plan (ihateyourplan) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-10-30 17:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, joe hardy |
Who: Joe Hardy
What: Joe receives a disturbing phone call in the middle of the night
When: Last night
Where: The Hardy’s apartment
Rating/Warnings: Dream NPC character death, language.
Status: Complete Narrative
Joe had been Dreaming for over six months now. He hated to admit it, but he’d actually gotten used to them. Did he enjoy them? It kind of depended on the Dream. Sometimes they were kind of fun. He liked the fact that they had updated. He and Frank - still in their late teens, mind you - seemed to have come to the later half of the 20th century. With the 90’s modernization had come a new kind of grittiness and a new sense of peril. It wasn’t as though he and Frank had faced no danger in the Dreams that had taken place in the 30’s, 50’s and 60’s, but gone was the feeling of being in a detective noir. In its place was more fast paced action with a dash of Die Hard with their lives in constant danger. Joe had thought he wasn’t getting much actual rest before. He hadn’t had any idea.
But, Joe had gotten used to waking up nearly as tired as he did when he fell into bed. The Dreams were consistent and had continued their trend of each being a mostly self-contained story in which the Mystery of the Day was nicely wrapped up by the time he awoke in the morning. There was a difference, however. Certain themes would carry over from one Dream to the Next. The Assassins, the terrorist organization of unknown, origins, featured prominently from time to time as did the shady government agency tasked with combating The Assassins, known so creatively as The Network. Joe knew every time the mysterious Mr. Grey showed up, things were going to start diverting into James Bond territory, just minus the handy gadgets from Q.
This dream, though? This Dream was different. It started innocently enough. There had been a brief conversation with Mr Grey concerning an upcoming trial of a captured Assassin, code named Boris (again, how original). However, Joe and Frank had already given their testimonies to the Grand Jury, and the trial itself was scheduled for next week. In the meantime, Joe, Frank and Callie on their way to a Halloween party at a “haunted house”. They were going to meet their friends at the docks before taking Vanessa Bender’s boat across Barmet Bay to the cliffs. There they would have at least one evening in which they could act like actual teenagers for a change.
While the concept of a Halloween party in which they’d be telling scary stories around a campfire had seemed hokey and a little out-dated to Joe especially with the newest entry in a slasher movie franchise premiering that same night, he was looking forward to seeing Vanessa. He liked the perky, sharp-as-a-tack new student at Bayport High. She was the first girl since Iola Joe had had any real feelings for, and Frank and Callie were both going to make sure Joe had enough time alone with Vanessa to make the entire trip to the party worthwhile.
They’d reached the docks and there had been Vanessa, perched up on the cabin cruiser’s bridge, waving at them excitedly. Then, right before their eyes, the boat blew up.
It was like the car bombing at the mall all over again with Joe racing headlong towards the blazing inferno in vain hopes that Vanessa was still alive and Frank right behind him, determined not to let his brother dive headlong into death. This time, though, their other friends - Chet, Tony, Biff and Phil - were also there and when Frank tackled Joe and managed to wrestle him off his feet, they were all there to help pin him down. Tony’s voice was in his ear, gently telling him that there was nothing and no one left to save.
Everything that happened once Joe was let up again seemed to happen as though through a fog. Joe heard Frank give a statement to the first officer on the scene, a Herbert Fischer. Joe was numb, but he managed to give a statement. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to blow up the Benders’ boat. It didn’t make any sense. It was an hour before they were able to leave. They took Callie home first, and then the brothers returned home. They were surprised to find their mother there - she had been with their father and aunt in New York visiting family. She had come down with some kind of bug and had returned home alone.
Frank told her what had happened and all Joe could do was stand numbly and listen. The worried looks he caught exchanged between his brother and mother made him angry. What did they think he was going to do? He had lost it on the pier, yes, but he was in control now. He had gotten over Iola’s death, he could move on from Vanessa’s. He told himself this, but his heart kept twisting in his chest. The moment of anger was brief and the numbness returned, this time bringing with it a sense of emptiness.
His mother attempted to distract him with a set of dopy ugly looking jack-o-lanterns a young Frank had begged his parents to buy. Mrs. Hardy reminisced about how for years Joe used to blow out the jack-o-lanterns’ candles every time his parents backs were turned. Joe saw through his mother’s efforts, and though appreciated, they weren’t helping.
Despite what had happened, Halloween was still going on outside the Hardy’s house. Joe watched as children started parading through the streets, decked to the nines in their costumes. It was then that Mrs. Hardy realized that due to returning early from her vacation, there was no candy to pass out. She had just left the living room to rectify the situation when the phone started ringing.
It was a shrill noise that grabbed his attention instantly. Who was calling them? Was there news about the explosion? Joe reached for the phone.
”You had someone new already, didn’t you Joe?” said a voice Joe knew all too well, a voice that not long ago he had longed to hear. ”You should have known it wouldn’t last. Everything you touch dies, doesn’t it? And more will die. Trust me on that, Joe. Tonight the dead will come for the living.”
Joe awoke with a jolt. Just he had after the Dream that had taken Iola away from him again, he was bathed in sweat, sheets wrapped around his legs as though he had been wrestling in his sleep. He could still hear the phone ringing. Why was the phone still ringing? Was he even awake? What was happening to him?
It took him several second to fully shake sleep away from his head and come to the realization that it was his cellphone on his nightstand that he was hearing. Irritably, Joe snatched it up. He noted the time on the display. Three Fucking AM. Who the hell was calling him at this hour? The caller ID simply said unknown coupled with a bunch of zeros.
Ordinarily Joe would have ignored the call and let it go to his voicemail. However, the Dream had gotten his dander up just enough that his nerves were on edge. He answered the call with a snap. “Do you have any idea what fucking time it i-”
“Joe.”
Joe’s heart froze and his blood along with it. It was impossible. He knew it was impossible. There was no way he was hearing Iola’s voice on the other end of this call. The Dream had him all worked up. He had to be hearing things.
“Who is this?” He demanded.
“It’s me, Joe,” the voice answered. It was unmistakable. Whoever was on the other end sounded just like Iola. It was like that dream he’d had right after she had died. The one in which she had come to him and had told him it had all been a mistake. However, he wasn’t dreaming now. Someone had to be playing some kind of sick pre-Halloween joke.
“Look, this isn’t funny.” Joe snapped. “You better hope I don’t find out who you are!”
“I’ve already told you it’s me,” the Iola on the other line insisted in such a way, Joe could easily picture the look of thin patience on her pixie like features. “You left without me, Joe.” She went on. “But don’t worry. I’m here now.”
“What?” Joe asked, but the line had gone dead. “Hello? Hello?!” Joe stared at his phone. The entire call hadn’t even lasted one minute. Joe gripped his phone tightly and scrolled through his recent calls. He was shocked to see that the most recent call in his phone’s history was a call between himself and Frank earlier that evening. That couldn’t have been right. He specifically looked through his incoming calls. An unknown name should have been at the top of the list, but it wasn’t. It was as if the call had never even happened.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Joe was wide awake, his heart jackhammering in his chest, he would have sworn he was still dreaming.
No...no that had to be it. He had imagined the call. The Dream, watching another - friend another person he loved - be violently killed right in front of him, it had rattled him badly. He’d been an absolute wreck when the Dreams had started, seeing Iola again. And when she had died again...he’d handled it a bit better, if punching the living crap out of the refrigerator could be considered better. He hadn’t gone off to the nearest bar and started a fight with the biggest toughest guy there, at least. But his sparring sessions with Carolina had increased in frequency. And he had become determined to find at least some answers, as elusive as they had been. He’d been doing better was the point. Better than he had been a few months ago in New York. Now? Now, Joe wasn’t so sure.