Chapter Text
On a rainy Tuesday evening in May, Virgil found himself lying across his bed, staring at the chipped white ceiling. His dark green comforter was crumbled in a heap at the bottom of the bed where his dog lay atop, snoozing away. Thunder cracked in the background, barely muffling the noise of the loud radio in the hall. For a stormy night, it was about as peaceful as it would get.
“Virgil!” his mom yelled, her voice barely heard above the radio. “Come downstairs and clean the kitchen! I’m leaving in less than two minutes!”
“Okay! Just a minute!” Virgil yelled back. He flipped over and groaned into his pillows. If there was anything he hated doing around the house, it was cleaning the kitchen. Despite its state of nearly never being used (except his frequent visits throughout the day to grab something quick and take it up to his room), it always managed to become the messiest room in the small house. After a few more moments of groaning, he flopped off the bed and began walking downstairs. His mom awaited him, arms crossed across her chest.
“It does not take that long for a seventeen year old to walk down the steps! I’m older than you and I’m quicker than that.”
Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it done,” he promised. “You can go.”
His mom sighed then smiled at Virgil, her eyes looking glassy and faraway. “You’re a good son.”
Virgil shrugged awkwardly, unsure what to say, but still mumbled out a quiet, “Thanks.” His mom wrapped him in a hug and patted his back warmly.
“Be good.”
“You’re just going to the movies.”
“Still; be good.” She winked and grabbed her purse then walked out the front door, snapping it shut behind her as thunder grumbled distantly. Virgil sighed and walked upstairs, figuring he’d do the kitchen later. Well, to be honest, he knew the most likely thing to happen would be that he wouldn't be coming back to the kitchen before his mom came back, but that didn’t matter.
“Where’s my stupid CD player?” he grunted to himself as he looked across his room.
The old thing had been a gift from his sister before she died two years ago in a car wreck. Car wrecks were one of those things that happened all the time, but people always seemed to be under the impression that it was something they’d never experience. Life likes to screw with those “that’ll never happen to me,” thoughts. Just like Virgil thought his parents would always stay together or he’d never lose his sister or a leg.
With that thought, Virgil eyed his prosthetic attached to the upper part of his left calf with something like disgust. He pretended the false limb didn’t bother him. He pretended he was tough and didn’t care he clanked around with a piece of plastic in place of his old leg. Honestly though, he did care. He hated how he limped, hated how the thing would creak and how the skin would rub until a dark red rash appeared, because his poor mom couldn’t afford a better one and insurance was garbage. Most of all, he hated the comments, the pity, and the few snide remarks from kids who didn’t understand.
He had to be brave; he had to put on a confident face for his mom. It was just the two of them; he couldn’t afford to shut down. Besides, he and his mom were doing just fine together. He didn’t need his dad or anyone else to step in. He had it covered.
Virgil shook himself from his thoughts and looked into his closet, where his mom always put his CD player. She thought it was “helpful” to move his stuff to other places, but truthfully, he found it very irritating. Especially since his closet was a danger zone, a safety risk to all living things.
Well, his entire room was, but his closet was totally worse.
“There it is!” he cried in excitement that perhaps was a little bit unwarranted. His dog padded up beside him, sniffing the CD player then sneezing. “Ew, Rue, gross.” Virgil wiped the thing with his jacket sleeve then frowned and froze. Was the back of his closet glowing or was he losing his mind?
“I’m losing it,” Virgil said. He leaned in closer. It was a small square, big enough to be a small, short door. It glowed a blueish purple, lighting up the entire closet. Virgil slowly reached a hand out and touched it. Upon doing so, Virgil cried out, yanking his hand back as a cutting pain shot through his arm.
The closet began to make a roaring noise and Virgil tried to crawl back, stumbling over Rue who began barking. At first Virgil thought he had to be going insane, but there it was, in front of his eyes, a square of his closet, drawing itself inward.
“Are you kidding me?” Virgil yelled as wind began whipping through his room from the square. Rue knocked Virgil the rest of the way to the floor and jumped through the square, barking like mad all the way. Virgil gave a cry of frustration and forced himself upright and began crawling after Rue.
He didn’t expect the inside of the square to be so dark, but it was; worse yet, it wasn’t quite a normal darkness either. It was a horrible cold sort that made one feel like they were closer to death than life. Virgil tried to crawl backward to get back into his room, but he was hit with a solid wall behind him. He still heard Rue barking, the only thing that led him to go on forward; he tried to follow the sound of Rue’s angry barking.
After a long while of crawling, his legs and arms began to cramp. Virgil had tried several times to back up, but the farther he went forward, the wall only closed in on him more. He wanted to give up, but he still heard Rue barking every so often and that kept him crawling on. If he lost that dog, his mom would probably kill him; that anxiety was almost worse than the anxiety of death.
Finally, Virgil slammed into a wall of fur. Then a wet tongue lapped over his face rapidly. He heard Rue let out another loud bark then an even louder whine. After she finished her little ritual, she laid down in front of Virgil. He reached his hand forward. Wall. He kicked back with his right leg. Wall. He screamed in panic and frustration. The air seemed to grow colder and he shivered, even through his thick, dark hoodie. The urge to cry or something stupid like that was building up fast along with the familiar urge to panic.
He remembered the words of his disaster safety class. “Don’t panic. Panicking only makes it worse and harder to think.” Yeah, great advice. How to not panic was beyond Virgil at that point. In frustration, he punched the wall in front of him, barely missing a very pissed off Rue, who jerked away, as if afraid of being hit herself.
The wall shoved inward with the impact of his fist, revealing a rectangular opening on the floor. Virgil cried out in joy and Rue gave a happy little bark. She trotted forward and before Virgil could stop her, she jumped through the floor where the wall used to cover. It was almost in slow motion as she fell through the hole and Virgil winced as he heard her whimper upon the impact. Virgil shivered then scooted forward to look down the large hole in the floor. Rue laid on a patch of concrete below on her left side. She whined pitifully.
“Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he chanted. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? It wasn’t like he had many options. It was basically jump down below or sit up in the crammed space for all of eternity. Virgil sighed, squeezed his eyes tightly shut then jumped through the floor.
He cried out in pain as he made the impact on the solid ground, barely missing Rue. It was pure luck alone that he didn’t smash his head, but that didn’t mean slamming his tailbone and wrist into concrete was that fun either. He heard a cry of surprise then somebody running. The sun beat down in his aching body, but he felt colder than he’d ever felt before.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked. Virgil looked up and saw a boy with floppy light brown hair and concern painted over his features. Virgil blinked as if the site of the boy’s freaking prince outfit and a sword which strung around his hips would vanish and maybe Virgil would feel a little less out of his mind. No such luck. The boy’s wide eyes roamed over Virgil and the dog worriedly.
Then, Virgil caught sight of the most disconcerting sight of all; the guy had huge, delicate looking, red wings spanning widely from his back. Virgil sat up quickly, heart racing.
“Where am I? What just happ-”
“Hey, you’re fine!” the guys promised, crouching down to begin examining Rue. The wings twitched and Virgil flinched. The guy smiled, charmingly so. “It’s okay, relax. Name’s Roman. You are?”
“Virgil,” Virgil grunted out, wincing in pain.
“Virgil,” Roman said, stretching out the name on his tongue like an odd taste. “Odd name.”
“Better than Roman,” Virgil grumbled, momentarily forgetting the situation around him for the sake of defending the little honor his name still had.
“Roman is a perfectly wonderful and acceptable name,” Roman said, looking offended. “Do you think you can stand?” he asked as he inspected Rue’s rib cage. He gave Virgil an expectant look then Rue whined and bit at Roman’s fingers. Roman withdrew them quickly and snapped his index finger and thumb together. Some sort of red, glittery substance flew from his thumbs into Rue’s face. She laid back against the concrete, her eyes looking distant. He began stroking her fur calmly, as if he hadn’t just done the oddest thing Virgil had ever seen.
“What did you do to my dog?” Virgil snapped.
“Just calmed her down a bit. Can you stand?” Roman asked again.
“Did you hurt her?” Virgil asked frantically, leaning over the big black husky. She was still breathing, though much slower. He ran his hands over her fur. She whined as his hands grazed over her ribs.
“I think they’re broken,” Roman explained. “She’ll need to see a vet. Can you stand?”
Virgil ignored his question again. “It’s so cold- she’s probably cold too. I need to make her warm. I-”
“Virgil- I need to see if you can stand.” Roman’s voice was growing concerned. “Don’t worry about your dog; she’ll be fine. Did you hit your head?”
“I’m fine! Why is it so cold?” Virgil cried.
Roman’s eyebrows knitted together. “Virgil-“
“Ugh! She’s in pain! How can-” Tears began to make Virgil’s eyesight misty. Everything felt constricting and Virgil’s chest felt too tight.
“We need to get you two to see the medic. I think you’re in shock or something. And I don’t know if you hit your head or not...”
“Why is it so cold?” Virgil snapped.
“Human body temperatures,” Roman murmured, almost as if speaking a reminder to himself. “Can you stand?” he asked for what seemed to be the fiftieth time.
This time, Virgil decided to try to answer. He pushed himself up and tried to stand then found the support of his left leg no longer under him. Roman caught him as he stumbled forward and helped him up. Virgil heard the clank of plastic on the concrete and groaned.
“Why did that stupid thing have to fall off?” he snapped. Roman looked at the ground where Virgil’s prosthetic laid. He raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn’t say anything and picked it up.
Virgil’s wits were slowly coming back to him and with them came the embarrassment of looking like a confused and scared child. “I can get it back on,” Virgil mumbled. He sat back on the ground and fixed the prosthetic back on his calf and then carefully stood up, trying to ignore the dizziness and throbbing from his wrists and tailbone. “What about Rue?” he asked, feeling too sluggish for comfort.
“Rue? I- OH! The dog? I’ll call my friend Logan to come get her. She’s fine.” Roman examined Virgil’s face carefully then added, “You’re fine.” He grinned as if that made everything better.
“Where am I?” Virgil asked. “I was in my bedroom like-” He paused, realizing he’d completely lost track of how much time had passed. He raked a hand over his face, then continued saying, “I have no idea. Where am I?”
“You’re fine.”
“That is not what I asked,” Virgil said, exasperated.
“Listen, you don’t need to worry about that. We just need to get you to a medic before-”
“Before what?”
“Before- Hey- you look really pale, man.”
It was that moment Virgil’s vision blurred together and he found himself falling forward. Roman barely caught him before he face planted on the concrete.
“Woah. Uh- Try not to fall asleep- I think you might have a head injury. Patton’ll have to look you over.”
Virgil tried to explain that he hadn’t hit his head, but he was feeling too dizzy and nauseous to speak. So all he could really get out was, “It really hurts.”
“I’m sure it does.” Roman’ voice sounded terribly muffled. Virgil’s body was beginning to grow heavier; it was a huge effort to support himself, even with Roman’ arms somewhat supporting him upright. He faintly heard somebody talking, something like a phone dialing, and then a gust of wind. The wind whipped into his face, startling his eyes open.
“Can’t have you passing out on me,” Roman said simply. He began walking down the sidewalk, Virgil trying to keep himself supported with Roman’s body as they made their way to a circle of tall buildings. Roman went up to the smallest and pushed open the glass door.
They were in a small lobby with several waiting chairs. A large desk sat in the corner of the room, where a guy wearing a polo and a cardigan tied around his shoulders sat, smiling at a computer screen. He too had wings similar to Roman’s, though they were a pale blue and appeared sturdier than Roman’s.
“Patton?” Roman asked, walking to the desk, still supporting Virgil. The guy looked up, taking in the sight of Roman and Virgil.
“Hey, kiddo!” Patton said. He looked to Virgil again. “Is he a human?”
Roman nodded. “I would take him underground, but walking through town into the paths to sneak him through would be too… you know.”
“I know what you mean,” Patton said. “Don’t worry; I’ll have him in and out as fast as possible.” Patton stood up and slipped his hand into his pants pocket. He pulled out a small black pouch, which he unzipped and pulled a needle from. “What’s your name, kiddo?” Patton asked, looking at Virgil.
“Virgil.”
“Okay, Virgil. Just relax.” Patton pushed the needle into Virgil’s arm, through his hoodie. Virgil gasped and tried to jerk back, but Roman just tightened his grip.
“Hey, you’re fine,” Roman assured. Virgil was growing annoyed of those words. “Calm down. Logan’s got Rue and he’s taking her to his clinic. She’s in good hands. Logan is great with animals. Maybe not with people, but with animals.” Roman laughed, as if he’d just made some ridiculous form of a joke. Virgil’s body fell limp and to his embarrassment, he collapsed into Roman’ chest. “You’ll be back home in no time, dude. The officers won’t even know you’re here.”
And with those unsettling words, Virgil’s heavy eyes finally slid shut and he was aware of nothing more.