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“How you doin’ in there Randall?”
A knock. Multiple knocks. Randall feels that sickening vertigo settle into his skull as he wakes up and realises where he is again. Again, that painful sensation in his neck from sleeping on the uncomfortable bus chairs. The light above him glares back at him. His nights had all been like this, since Donna had literally banished him to the vehicle. Sleepless, too fucking bright nights surrounded with no protection except a thin layer of glass and a flimsy door.
“Fuck off .” He barks out, but Randall knows it’s to no avail. From the position he was in, if he craned his neck, he could see the bus’ door and the nurse behind it smiling at him. Pin pricks and cold rushed through his hands at the sight. No. Fuck this. Who the fuck did it think it was? Randall makes no time getting up from his seat, bolting through the bus and to the creature just behind the door that he was now standing in front of. It just smiled back at him as he snarled, baring his teeth like a cornered dog.
“You know, Randall, you’re not safe here.”
Randall grimaces, ready to shout another string of curses towards the creature.
“Shut your fuckin’-”
“The clinic isn’t safe either.”
And that’s when Randall’s resolve melted like the wet snow off the pavement that morning. What? How did it…? Where was Randall…?
Panic settles into the deepest recesses of Randall’s heart as his mouth goes dry and he can’t think of a response. He always had responses. Stammering, Randall clutches the side of the bus seat besides him and falls down to the ground.
If it couldn’t get worse, a cicada made its way to the door.
Buzzing.
Randall could barely croak out a scream as the nurse’s arm bursted through the door like it was made of paper and grabbed him by the throat. What happened next is a complete blur, Randall’s eyes started to water as he sunk through the floor of the bus, choking and sputtering as the nurse’s face contorted into something monstrous. Her mouth opened, and a swarm of cicadas flew out.
—-
“Fuck NO NO! PLEASE!”
“Randall! Randall, what’s wrong- Randall?
Randall awoke in a panic. Tears had been running down his face, his hands trembling. The only thing stopping him from jerking out and rushing out of bed was the jab of pain coursing through his wounds out of protest against every little movement. Breathing raggedly, he quickly realised where he was as his eyes scanned his environment.
He was at the clinic. Of course.
Marielle was with him. Her usual tender voice was wrought with concern as she placed a tentative hand on Randall’s shoulder. He tensed up at the touch, but after a minute of orienting himself and huffing through his nose did Randall accept the comfort for what it was. God damnit. He must look like a pussy right now. Randall’s usually hazel eyes, now red from crying, looked up at Marielle.
“You were screaming- we could hear you from upstairs…” Marielle reiterates, furrowing her brow as she looks at the spot on the bed, asking for permission to sit. Randall nods quietly, bringing a hand up to wipe some snot and saliva off his face. Marielle sits down and lets out a long exhale as she looks over Randall. It wasn’t judgemental. It wasn’t condescending, or anything like that. Randall turnt his face to avoid eye contact, but he was already so exposed. So fragile. He hated it. Hated it with every fiber of his being. It was only when Marielle removed her hand did Randall turn to look back at her.
“How about you… stay upstairs with us? With me and Kristi. We won’t mind. Kristi won’t mind.”
Randall looks taken aback. Inviting him over for a sleepover. He takes a moment to process the concept. It was alien. Nobody had treated him with such kindness, not while he’s been here, at least. Maybe he should have expected it. Marielle had invited him to the clinic in the first place. He scoffs, pursing his lips and sniffling.
When he looks back at Marielle, who had been there with him when they were… stuck, in that place, he only sees an extending hand of comfort. A notion. ‘We're in this together’, it said to him. Randall swallows his pride, literally, and does a curt little nod.
“Alright.”
—-
Kristi’s room was comfortable. Homely. Love permeated through the air, almost tangible. It was a complete far cry from anything else Randall had seen in the town. Marielle was busy setting up a makeshift bed on the floor for Randall to sleep on while Kristi was on the bed, still in pain from her encounter with the bear trap. Her hair looked like shit, Randall thought to himself.
“Uh… thanks.” Randall croaks out as Marielle props up a pillow for him to sit against. Kristi was smiling at him, but it wasn’t that horrible, shit eating smile that the creatures showed him every night in the bus. It was genuine. Randall didn’t smile back, not for now, but he appreciated the notion and nodded in response. That elicited a slight chuckle from Kristi.
“We all have nightmares, you know.” Kristi speaks out, her tone playful. Randall wanted to snap back, say something mean, but he just didn’t have it in him at the moment. His hands were still awash with that after-feeling of panic.
“Yeah, well.” Is all Randall can say, avoiding eye contact again. Marielle finishes up the little makeshift bed and returns to the bed to sit next to Kristi, placing a kiss against her fiance's neck as she looks over Randall. The room was dimly lit. The blinds were down, so they wouldn’t have to worry too much about the monsters bothering them. They tended not to when they couldn’t see anything.
Randall swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to get comfortable in the makeshift bed. He had been in the clinic for a few days now, but his neck was still sore from sleeping in the bus. His wounds were healing well, but they still stung from time to time, especially when he grimaced or moved his face in any significant way. Marielle was, not so subtly, eyeing up his wounds, after Kristi had quietly reassured her that her foot was fine. Worrywarts.
He wanted to talk. Didn’t matter about what.
“So… how’d you two meet?” Randall blurts out.
Regret begins to fall into Randall. When the fuck did he care about small talk? His intense brow furrowing was promptly interrupted when both Marielle and Kristi chuckled in tandem.
“We, uh… met at a bar. Actually. A lesbian bar.” Kristi spoke out, running a hand through her mullet as she fondly looks over Marielle’s features.
“I was really, uh- really lonely? When I was in medical school. It was a lot of work. So I just decided to go to the local queer get-together and see what would happen.” Kristi continues, crossing her arms. “I came in, and, believe it or not, Marielle was busting some moves on the dance floor. She was the only one, actually.”
A huge grin spreads across Marielle’s face at the story, running her hand up and down Kristi’s shoulder.
“We saw each other, and… after I had gotten a drink or two in me–” Kristi snorted. “Because I am not doing that sober… I joined her. We danced and talked all night. And, you know, the rest is history.” She finishes the anecdote with a tender kiss to Marielle’s cheek, who beamed brightly.
Randall doesn’t know what to say for a moment. He nods quietly, bringing his hand up to his left cheek to scratch at his stubble. It was clear he was… unfamiliar. With all of it. Love, especially of the queer variety. He falls silent, looking down at the floor. The women must have caught this, for Marielle shuffles where she’s sitting so she can better talk to Randall. He looks up.
“You got anyone waiting for you back home? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
The question catches him off guard. This was his price for engaging in smalltalk. A mocking grin appears on his own face as he rubs the back of his head, unsure of how to answer that. How the hell would he answer that? He wasn’t queer. Or, well. What fell under queer? Randall’s brow furrows as another sensation starts to sink in his heart. It wasn’t panic, or fear. It was something more tender than that. Not fear of judgement. Kristi and Marielle wouldn’t judge. They had invited him to their home. To their room, even. Randall chews on the insides of his cheeks, fumbling.
“I– uh… I’ve had a couple girlfriends. Nothing serious. Uhm.” His words fall softer. Staring at the wall, he could feel Marielle and Kristi’s eyes boring into him. He looks back, for just a brief moment, and his guard falters. Nothing but love and friendship looked back at him. He swallows another lump in his throat as he croaks out the next part of his sentence.
“And… I met this guy on Tinder. I was–” Randall scratches the back of his head again. “I was on my way to him, actually. In Detroit. On that fucking bus.”
Marielle and Kristi look surprised. A pleasant surprised.
“Didn’t take you for swinging both ways.” Kristi teases, tilting her head as she shows that little mullet-wearing grin of hers. Marielle also looks impressed, leaning forward a bit to better listen to Randall speak. Randall, meanwhile, is shitting his pants.
“Y-Yeah. Uh. Think he was a…” Randall pauses for a moment. How long has it been since he arrived here? “Vet tech, I think. Really liked bunnies and shit.”
Randall nods as he finishes. That’s all they’re getting, for now. He crosses his arms as if he’s hunkering down, ready to hear it all about how he was a little sissy.
But that never came. When he looked up at Marielle and Kristi again, they were just nodding and smiling. A little incredulous smile creeps onto Randall’s face. He scoffs.
“Got your eyes on anyone here?” Marielle perks up, again, with the teasing tone.
“Alright, alright. You ain’t getting more out of me.” Randall chuckles, shaking his head and slumping down in his bed. Kristi and Marielle snicker and for a moment, things seemed okay. No monsters. No nightmares. Just love.
He was okay.