Peace and Goddamn Harmony

Curt and Alyssa ain’t speaking. No use in keeping her name secret now. She’s real mad, and so’s he. Bit like high school, or what I saw of it – they’re too angry at each other to talk, but they’ll talk to me. Feel almost like they’re expecting something from me. No clue what.

I say, they’re pissy ‘cause they’re so compatible. They got respect for each other. Won’t admit it, though. I see the looks they give, though, when the other one’s back is turned. Think it’s ‘cause Aly’s seen the streets and knows the Fears, and that’s a one-up she’s got on Curtis. Curtis is smart, though, like book-smart. Knows the weirdest things, about everything. I could see it in her face when he deciphered her real name, from the one she gave us – knew just what she’d done to get her screen name, and knew what it meant. You don’t see that kind of smart in a guy, don’t think. Least, not often. Other day, too, when she was telling us about the Intrusion, he asked why she was wearing blue. Most attractive color to mosquitoes, he said. Checked it online, later, it’s one a list of real random facts, but he just knows ‘em off the top of his head. Since then, she’s borrowed one o’my shirts.

They’d get along like a house on fire, if they’d just talk to one another. ‘Least they ain’t hostile, or making me fight for ‘em…

My dilemma is, ain’t sure what to make of Curt, now.

If he’s one of Them, can’t trust ‘im. They ain’t human no more, are they?

Same time, though, he’s decent. Even went out of his way to help me, and you don’t forget something like that. Not from a total stranger, not from anyone. If it was to get my guard down, well, he could’ve killed me before Alyssa showed up. I’ve been dead tired and had my back turned to him, and he didn’t do a thing.

‘Sides, if he’s turned on the Archive…don’t that mean something? For him, as a person?

Anyhow, started out trying to write about my nightmare. Was putting it off. Venting, too, I guess.

Just more of the same. Dragged by the ankles by a living rope. Hauled over dirt and rock and grass by a Doll, and in the distance he looks damn close to the Hanging Man. And before I can get any closer, the Vision tries to grab and tilt my face. Fingers like razors.

Difference is, in my dream last night, she gripped real tight.

This morning, woke up with the cuts her fingers left, ‘long the sides of my face.