Dream Drive Ch. 05

Jackson rubbed his forehead. The confused flame inside of the bond bobbed and weaved, but it faded a bit as she distanced herself. He looked at Shaka. "I don't look that bad, do I?"

"You've looked better," Shaka said.

"What happened? She was..."

"What happened, Jackson," Shaka said, "is that her half of your bond activated when you found yourself in danger. She was bringing water to the camp, and suddenly, it weighed less than a feather, and she could run at twice her normal pace. She came to me."

"Oh."

"Oh is right," Shaka said. "And then I had to deal with your wife-to-be, who was stuck dozens of miles away from you while your life was at risk, filled with enormous strength and unable to lift a finger to help you." Shaka fixed him with her spirit-guide-glare. "Do not do that to me again. I do not believe my tipi will survive another event such as that."

"Um...ok."

Shaka nodded. "Now. You have the look of someone with much on their mind."

"Shaka, a lot happened," Jackson said. "A hell of a lot. And..."

"Get yourself cleaned up, and we'll discuss it," she said. "I will take Smallgrass back to the herd, then wait with Chaki so that she does not burn the camp down."

Jackson went off and threw himself in the creek. His bison-skin shirt and pants sloughed off most of the blood and grime surprisingly well, only leaving a dim stain. The People-Under-The-Mountain made their clothes to last.

Once he'd scrubbed himself off, he donned his wet clothing and made his way back to Shaka's tipi. She was waiting with a fresh outfit. He changed in her tent, grateful for the new belt, then set his other set of clothes to dry near her fire.

He wasn't surprised to see Chaki waiting for him when he went outside. This close, he could feel her constantly, fading as she moved away, growing as she closed in; a candle that was drifting up and about. Her mood had settled to an ashen glow.

"I am sorry," she said, "that I struck you."

"It's ok," Jackson said. "I think I'm getting used to being slapped in the face."

Chaki hacked a laugh. She looked at the fire, then at the dim sky, now the purple-blue of sunlight almost gone. "I was worried. More than I thought I would be. Than I should be."

"Sorry."

"You're not sorry you went."

"No," Jackson said. "I'm sorry I made you upset."

Chaki considered that for a moment, then nodded. "That much was honest."

Jackson moved around the fire and sat next to her. He gently placed his hands on her elbows. "So what do I do next time?"

"Don't go off on your own again."

"I can do that."

Chaki nodded. He hadn't fixed it, not entirely - but she seemed satisfied for the moment.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to fix it all the way.

Something dark curdled in his heart. It had been a long ride back from the rattok nest, a long time to think. Would Chaki leave, like Rachel did? When she saw him for what he was, would she abandon him?

He had to expect the worst. He had to steel himself against it. All he had to do was break it off before she did.

But she felt so good in his arms. Her eyes stared up into his; he sucked in their deep brown color. His brief resolve crumbled.

What was wrong with him?

Jackson smiled; Chaki returned it. Her teeth were bright in the light of the fire. "I'm glad, Jackson."

"At least you two have the good sense to communicate," Shaka said. "I don't know how many couples I've gone through that don't grasp the basics. Giving guidance is hard work."

"Thanks for all the help, Kemosabe."

"I take it that this is a compliment?" Shaka asked.

"That one would take a while to explain," Jackson said. "But basically, yes."

"Shaka said you had a lot to tell us," Chaki said.

"Yeah." Jackson sat on the ground, and Chaki sat with him. She kept a hand on him, as if afraid he'd vanish. Shaka sat a few feet away, on their side of the fire. "So, first thing's first. I made a new friend. Sort of."

****
By the time Jackson was done, it was the dead of night. Chaki had moved to sit with her arm twined with his, leaning on his shoulder. Shaka stared into the campfire, watching the crackle of dry heat.

Telling the story did not make Jackson feel better. He did not feel like he had gotten something off his chest; rather, it seemed to reinforce the weight that was already there. It made Isis more real.

He felt a gnawing exhaustion. It wasn't sleep he needed; it was time alone. He felt an urge to go into his room, perch in his swivel chair, and waste time on his computer.

Jackson didn't like explaining himself. The longer he went without a recharge, the more of a hassle the effort of making his thoughts and ideas comprehensible to other human beings became. Every conversation became a rough hike; they had since mutated into full vertical climbs.

He was tired of talking; he was tired of people. He was tired of even looking at people. Most of all, he was tired.

Even Chaki's arm was starting to feel like a chain.

"Jackson?" Chaki asked.

Jackson made a noise.

"You seem tense."

"Fine," he said.

Chaki looked at him a moment. "So...another warrior like you. What does it mean?"

"It means that a time of great change is upon us," Shaka said. "Shakhan has summoned Jackson to deal with the threat to the Tower of Babel and strike down the demons."

"Yes," Chaki said, "but what I don't understand is why this Rachel ran away. I thought you were getting along, and you did save her. Rather like us, really."

Jackson shrugged. "I don't get it either. She was a little weird, but she was nice, once you got past the...well, a lot of stuff. But I thought we might be able to work together."

"She placed a higher value on the magical container than your friendship, apparently," Shaka said.

Jackson frowned. He looked at his folded legs.

What Shaka said was logical. But something felt off. Rachel was definitely impulsive enough to do something like that, but...

But nothing. He'd simply misjudged her. It wouldn't be the first time he'd held out for someone and come up with nothing but air. He wondered how many times he'd have to be disappointed before he stopped hoping for people to be better than they were.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose with the arm Chaki wasn't using as a headrest. His life had been so simple just a few days ago. Sleep. Eat. Play games. Work on his computer. Now he had all this crap to deal with. This was why he stayed in his room. This was why he didn't bother.

There was one common denominator that stretched through his life, and that was him. There was no escaping that. Rachel picked up on it – she stuck around long enough to benefit, then hightailed it out of there.

"Jackson?" Chaki asked.

He looked up. Chaki was looking at him again. He felt her warmth in the bond. Concern.

Jacked heaved a sigh. "She was cool," he said. "I just can't believe she went and did that. You think I'd be able to stomach it by now. I can't stop myself from hoping."

"There must be more we don't know," Chaki said.

Jackson made a sort of half-smile. "I dunno. Thinking about it, it made sense for her to cut and run. Grab the treasure and skedaddle. It's probably why she was there. She tricked me into letting her touch it first. She probably knew something about it."

"You should trust your own judgement," Chaki said. "If you think there's more to this, than there probably is. Perhaps we'll meet her again, later, and you can ask her for an explanation."

"...thanks, Chaki."

"A good wife supports her husband."

Jackson looked into the fire. He was a husband. Or, at least, he would be. A husband with a wife that deserved better.

Would all this lovey-dovey honeymoon stuff crash down around him? Should he not worry about it, and just enjoy it while it lasted? Should he stop caring?

It was too late, in part - he cared about Chaki. Hell, he'd seduced her. He threw all his concerns away and just went with his impulses.

It had been easier when Isis was a video game come alive. But now it was settling in. This wasn't unreality – it was just a different reality. His forehead felt like it was bending under the pressure of trying to outthink the way this world worked.

Chaki just didn't get it. She had no concept of Earth. She refused to think anything bad about him. She didn't even know who he was.

"I will think on what you have said," Shaka said, breaking the silence. "There isn't much to be done until we reach the mountain. I will trust you two not to commit further dalliances." She gestured to the thin cannon and the golden cylinder. "Keep those safe and wrapped in cloth. Speak of them to no one." Shaka ambled away from their fire at the edge of camp, returning to her tipi.

Chaki waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. "You are bothered," she said. "I felt it earlier. It's circling inside of you like a hawk."

"...I'm fine."

"You make a poor liar."

"I'm not lying."

Jackson felt as though the bond had been dipped in ice. Chaki let his arm go and walked away from the fire. She stood a few feet away, her back turned, arms folded. Jackson remained sitting. "You've already broken your promise to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said you would not go off on your own," Chaki said. "Apparently you did not include the space within your heart."

"What was that Shaka was saying about communication?"

"You are the one that isn't communicating. I want in, Jackson. And I want in now."

"You don't just get to kick someone's door in and stomp over their carpet with muddy shoes."

Chaki turned her head, half-looking at him. "I thought I was already inside. But as soon as I let you wander away, I'm a stranger again."

"There's nothing to tell," he said. "I'm fine."

"This is a pattern that keeps repeating itself," Chaki said. "Just be honest with me."

Jackson said nothing.

"I won't judge you for the truth," she said. "You have no self-confidence."

Jackson felt a sting that had nothing to do with his cheek. "Yeah, well, news at eleven."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you stated the obvious!"

Chaki wheeled and marched back toward the fire. "I'm sick and tired of your angst. I was stuck here, alone. I thought I wouldn't see you again. I thought I'd let you ride to your death! Give me the dignity of the truth!"

"Let's inject a little realism into this situation," Jackson said. "It means a lot to me that you're so concerned. But you've known me for what - three days? You're obsessed with this husband-wife thing. And if you haven't noticed, it's kinda freaking me out."

"Is that it, then?" Chaki said. "You think I'm a fool caught up in romantic expectations? You're a liar, Jackson. You feel the same way I do."

"How would you know?"

"Because I can feel it!" Chaki said. "I can feel it in your heart. I felt it last night. The bond tells me it is so."

"If you're so in tune with my feelings, then stop asking about them."

"I can't read your mind." Chaki glared down at him. "There's something inside of you. Something that's bothering you. I have no other words to describe it; I cannot know it unless you tell me."

Jackson's gaze retreated to the fire. He pinched a clump of grass between his fingers, ripped it free, and tossed it aside. "Some people are open books. I'm not one of them."

"I will have it from you."

"There's nothing to have."

"Liar."

"What the hell is your problem?" Jackson said. "Can't you take a hint? I don't want to talk about it. I don't talk about it. So back off!"

"You won't go off on your own again," Chaki said. "Isn't that right? Or maybe you just said that to make your obsessed wife happy for a moment!"

Jackson heard his own words tossed back at him, but his anger blunted the blow of his hypocrisy. His fists were clenched. His lips were drawn back, and he felt just about ready to explode. She had no idea what she was talking about.

He was afraid that telling her would make her go away.

"You had concerns when you bonded me," Chaki said. "You waxed poetry about your inability to protect me, your uncertainty about what I was getting into. But I could see you, Jackson. You're like steel, at your best - but parts of that metal are weak, rusted abscesses, gaping breaks in who you are. Whatever made those is what makes you hesitate. Whatever made those is what makes you cringe away from me like a child!"

"You want to know how I feel?" Jackson climbed to his feet and locked eyes with her. Chaki swallowed and leaned away from the expression on his face. "You want the truth?" he said. "You want to know who I am? Because it's not what you imagine in your head, I can tell you that much."

Chaki regained herself. "I will take you as you are, Jackson."

"What I am," he said, "is a loser."

"You are not –"

"Shut up!" Jackson shouted. "What the fuck would you know, would any of you people know?! Did you live my life?!"

Chaki's eyes were wide. Her mouth fell open. She waffled there, silent.

"Everyone in this camp has been telling me how great I am," he said. "You, Hanta, Shaka, Landri. Oh Jackson, thank you. Oh Jackson, you're so wonderful. We believe in you, Jackson. It's nice, sure, but it's also a load of horseshit. None of you actually know me.

"When my father died," Jackson said, "it broke my mother. I thought I had to take his place; I had to make it better. So I tried to shake her out of it. I tried for years. She came back every night so drunk I could smell it as soon as she opened the door. Sometimes her clothes were torn, and she had bruises. She was beaten, maybe even raped - if she was, she never told me.

"She would get so drunk she would sleep in her own vomit. And then she went back out again the next night. She would steal my things and sell them so she could buy more alcohol. She found where I kept my money three times before I wised up and put a lock on my door.

"I was too young to figure it out at first, but eventually, it worked its way through my skull. She was doing it to herself on purpose. She didn't want to live; she didn't want to feel anything. So I gave up on her. I gave up on my own fucking mother." Jackson leaned forward and forced the words through his teeth. "And you know what I did then? I crawled into my room and locked the door. I don't have any family besides her; there was nowhere else to go to. It was easier to run away, so that's what I did.

"No one at my school cared about me. They bullied me because I was different, because I had the gall to actually try and go after something, because I was smart, because I was poor, because I had a job so young, because I walked to school instead of arriving in a car, because I was an easy target - for any reason they thought made a good enough excuse. I was – I am - a social outcast. I'm one of those people no one associates with because they don't want to be contaminated with whatever mental disease I must have. The teachers ignored me. They weren't paid enough to pay attention to bullshit like that.

"People used me. So many people I thought might be my friends, they all used me. I had to get my own job to stay alive, because my mother did nothing, and they took me for even the little bit I had to spare. I worked in an electronics hardware shop, I picked up a few things; they used me for that, too. You know what one of my best friends did to me? He had me make a machine for a group of people that raped women for sport. It kept them from being discovered." Jackson raised his hands up, then let them fall. "He didn't tell me what it was for until after the fact. That was someone I considered a friend. That's what a fantastic judge of character I am.

"I made sure those guys got what was coming. But do you think I confronted my friend, that I stood up for myself? Not even for a second. I crawled right back in my room, turned the sound on my headphones up, and ignored it! I took my beating, I ran, I hid, I avoided everyone I could possibly avoid. I hate people. I. Hate. People! I said it, there it fucking is! I've spent my entire life fucking cultivating apathy because I couldn't stand to give a shit about what happened to me or anyone else for one more fucking second!

"And what's even more pathetic than that," Jackson said, "is that I ran as far as you could possibly go. I shoved my head into games – time-wasting bullshit that won't get you anything in real life. I buried myself in them. I came here because this was supposed to be the best game ever made, because it was supposed to be a whole world you could lose yourself in. It was supposed to be my escape. I thought Emil Mohammed understood that. He knew the score. It was finally here, prepackaged and factory sealed, and instead...it's real. And now I'm the one that has to deal with it.

"So when you come and tell me that I don't have any self-confidence – you're right! That's the most accurate thing you've said about me yet, Chaki. That's hitting the nail right on the head. Every single time you've proclaimed my greatness, named me your savior, it was like you were twisting the dagger a little harder into my stomach because I knew all along exactly what kind of a person I am. A loser. I'm a loser with no life, no accomplishments, nothing to speak of, no honor or dignity or any of that stuff, nothing. Or whatever values you think are good - I don't have them. For once, with you, your brother, and Shaka, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I'm glad it happened, but I didn't magically transform into a different person because I got a few special powers and did one good deed. I'm not a fucking hero. I'm just me. And now you know what that is - a do-nothing sack of melodrama and bullshit."

Jackson settled back on his heels. He breathed as if he'd run a mile.

He hadn't been able to stop it. It had been building all along, all the worries he'd shoved to the back of his mind, all the fears he shelved so that he could focus on dealing with his new life. His brain was busy figuring out Isis, busy worrying about survival, so it had packed all the emotion in a closet at the back.

As the smoke in his head cleared, he felt a sudden sense of horror. The closet door had finally burst open, and the tangled mess had spilled out right on top of Chaki.

Jackson took a step away from her. "I'm sorry, Chaki," he said. "I...shouldn't have raised my voice." He slowly sat down on the ground, faced the fire, and drew his knees to his chest. "...you should just go. It's fine. You know...I don't deserve you. You're amazing. You're so amazing. You're beautiful. I'm a horny piece of shit that thought he could get away with it. Time to wake up. That's the truth you wanted. All of it."

And then, it was quiet.

Chaki stood where she was, unmoving. Probably still taking it in.

The fire was low. The sound of the embers was hushed. A wind blew over them, ruffling grass, beating the sides of the tipis. It was cold; it seeped through his clothes. Jackson shivered.

Chaki still said nothing.

Jackson had an urge to fill the quiet. "I hope you get it now," he said. "I tried to tell you before. But...I don't know. For a while, I thought I could just be someone different, that I could let all that stuff go. It was almost like I could just lean on you and forget about it. But you can't just change who you are that easy. I can't make you my personal crutch. So, I'll learn magic from Shaka, and then I'll go up the tower and do whatever needs to be done. You can get back to your life."

Chaki slowly stepped back around the fire. She stopped a few feet away. She sat, curling up until she was like him, knees at her chest, facing the fire. "Can I sit here?"

"...you already are. I don't own the ground."

Chaki nodded.

"Do you want to say something?"

"Yeah," she said. "I guess I'm just figuring it out."