| Subject: Chapter 264 - Part 2 (16 and above) (end of chapter 264) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, November 13, 06:51:32am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
He discovered this as soon as he opened the letter, his heart nearly stopping, eyes widening, as he was told of the latest terror she had had to face without him. The absolute determination she showed in it was his only real comfort; he flipped over the envelope quickly to get an idea of when it had been written--nearly wanting to howl with sorrow and horror, little sanity left. Three days--it had been three whole days ago that the businessman had made yet more, terrible threats against her; his heart pounded. And so damn much could happen that he would never know about in three days' time.
He had a look of utter shock and fear in his eyes, even if his face was frozen in the usual blank mask he had perfected for this place; several of his closest comrades saw it, Elkins looking worried for a second, before he came over, sitting tentatively on the actor's bunk. "Something happen to Nikita?" He was clearly fond of saying her real name by now--even if he also looked upset at the very thought.
It took Michael several very long seconds to draw himself back, to slow the desperate pounding of his heart. For all of them, all he could think about was getting out, was running as far and as fast away from the camp and this life as he could; the images weren't entirely lucid. Maybe he could kidnap Sikes and force him to fly him back home. Maybe he could call Helmut and have him hire a plane. Maybe . . .
He blinked once, as he forced himself to return marginally to sanity again, finally looking over toward the worried man. But there was no real comfort in his eyes. To Eric, Nikita was a dream, some sort of imaginary fairy princess that he could turn toward whatever sort of fantasy he could create. That she was facing danger was only a new turn in the plot, a fascinating horror which would make him cringe in the dark--chewing his popcorn more rapidly, as he waited to see where the images before him would go. She wasn't real to him. He knew nothing of the woman--might not even care for her, if he did. No one here really gave a damn. The actor's heart pounded all the more, as the terrible truth sank in. But there was nothing the one man who loved her could do for her now, either.
This hideous truth was bruising, as he looked in the man's worried eyes--finding no comfort there. Still, the traces of a new plan did evolve, as he answered--wishing with every part of his being that it were possible to just run away, to find some way back to her side. "Someone's been bothering her," he understated--seeing the recruit's eyes flare. But there was no way out of his situation except to make it through.
Eric looked like a moviegoer now--or, at least, like a fan who was being told about an interesting new plot. Still, there was a trace of real concern there, a horror--even if it were only focused on the fictional character of the woman he had created in his mind. "Is she alright?" he wondered, wanting more of the story. He had probably been the sort of boy who had begged his grandfather for just one more tale before bedtime.
Michael didn't get to answer immediately--Ackerman's voice slithering lazily and venomously over from his own cot. "She probably just got bored of being with an old man." He was lying there with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling; he rarely received letters from home. He sounded as though he were merely speculating, his one-sided conversation not intended for them. "I bet she just found someone who could fuck her like she needed." They were the man's first real words to the actor in some weeks--but they couldn't be said to be welcoming.
Ackerman's lack of respect for the image of the lovely and delicate Kitty Ward had been a minor point of contention between the recruit and Eric since the beginning--but he had been wise enough not to dwell on it before. Now, that friction looked likely to spark a fire--Eric bolting up from the cot to point at his once-friend, glaring. "You shut the Hell up! Nikita would never . . ." He couldn't even finish his words, too caught up in his rage.
Part of Elkins' adoration of the woman always seemed to have been tied up in a belief in her purity; Michael had long seen it. How he thought the woman had managed to end up pregnant, he had no idea. Perhaps he still believed in storks and cabbage patches. Or, at least, he did, when it came to having anyone near the woman, besides himself.
The actor had no doubt of the luridness of Eric's fantasies about Nikita, but he didn't question the man's defense of her now. He would make certain that, even if circumstances ever allowed the pair to meet, the man never got too close to her. She had put up with far too much already to ever allow that.
Michael accepted this new ally, then, having already witnessed the moment of the man's conversion to his side. He patted the recruit's arm lightly, briefly, to calm him, as he rose--Ackerman ignoring them again, his eyes closed, while he shrugged disinterestedly on his cot; the actor's voice was quiet, heard by only Eric--and perhaps Sikes and Kane in the next two bunks. The absolute attention the brief confrontation had drawn was beginning to wane--the tension diffusing. "You're right," he whispered, Elkins' head turning toward him, his anger still evident. "This is someone who'd like to see her hurt."
The woman's obsessive fan appeared even more horrified by this news than by his ex-friend's comment. Sikes and Kane had drawn close, as well. "What can we do?" he wondered--helpfully, if not entirely rationally. But, with Eric, Michael suspected that rationality could sometimes be a pretty fine line.
It was at this moment that Ackerman came alive again, one of the newsreel men leaning into the barracks to announce that they were ready for the next setup. The actor's enemy was smiling, as he walked out the door at the head of the pack, clearly planning something foul. Michael waited, as most of the room left--semi-grudgingly--behind him; he looked toward Willie, nodding. "Why don't you follow them?" He smiled reassuringly. "We'll be out in a minute."
Kane took his orders, if a little slowly--never strong-willed enough to fight; none of the rest objected--knowing the man's loyalties to be fairly shaky, at best. It was a moment later, then, that everybody had left the barracks except for the actor, Eric, Sikes, and their colonel--who stood over in a corner, watching the strange huddle speaking furtively with each other. Simmons might not be certain exactly what it was about, but he knew he needed to keep an eye out. Whatever would break between Ackerman and Samuelle, it was going to happen soon.
This insight was certainly correct, Michael feeling it as well--ready to gather near him any aid he could find. "I need your help." Both men nodded, if for slightly different reasons. "It might sound strange, but, if I'm discredited, Nikita will suffer. Hollywood isn't always a friendly place." He looked them both over assessingly. "The world needs to believe in me, if they're going to believe in her, as well."
Sikes was nodding, his insightfulness picking up many of the nuances here--clearly already aware, in some small ways, of how the world worked. But Eric just looked confused--incapable of imagining how anyone would look down on Nikita for anything. Henry saw this, gazing over to him to explain by proxy. "There was a woman in my hometown recently. For awhile, she was the president of the Ladies' Guild, was assured of winning the grand prize for any of the quilts or cakes she entered in the county fair. People looked up to her." His look darkened. "But as soon as people found out that her husband was actually Jewish, as soon as he lost his job . . ." He didn't go into the details of the loss, even if his insinuation made it self-evident. "When he killed himself soon thereafter, she was run out of town." His head shook. "No one forgives a wife for what happens to her husband."
This began to make a little sense to Eric--as his eyes were showing--but there was little time for more; Michael's gaze quickly thanked Henry before going back to his dim plan, now certain of his theory. "Ackerman's going to try to influence the newsreel crew. He wants me to look bad." His focus on Elkins was deep, making his point clear. "If I look bad, Nikita will be attacked too." He saw her intent fan nearly puff up at this news, seeming irate--even if he clearly had no idea of how literal the statement had been. "We need to make certain that they get a better view of me than that."
After his recent confrontation with Ackerman, this was all it took to convince the recruit, Eric looking focused. "He won't get near them," he promised menacingly before stalking toward the door. There were only another few moments thereafter when Michael wondered just what he might have unleashed.
He didn't have long to ponder such a question, Henry looking toward him reassuringly. "We'll look after her," he promised. And, whatever his reasons might be, it was clear that he meant it.
Michael just nodded, accepting the help, as the pair of them moved out into the cold once more--past their narrowed-eyed colonel. Simmons knew very well that he had just witnessed a shifting of power within the unit; he gazed out the door after them. But what might come of the change was left entirely to be seen.
Extra note: I don't mean to insinuate anything terrible about newsreel crews with my depiction of just one of them here; I know very little about their daily lives. I'm sure most of them were simply stuck doing the drudge work of collecting all the important footage, while someone else--in a nice, warm studio somewhere--got all the glory from writing and recording the voice-over narration. This particular crew just demanded to be written this way. Please don't take them as an example of all.
[End of Part 264]
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