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Stebbins’ eyes were not functioning quite as they should, most parts of him weren’t anymore. His vision was blurred quite horribly to the point he was unable to see his feet below him, which too were unstable. What a shame. He thought to himself, keeping his neck pointlessly angled down, the line of his face parallel to his now worn moccasins, in spite of the searing ache of the knot atop his spine (he believed if he changed his stance at this point, he would surely lose his balance). I wish I could see my feet now that I’m stumbling. Though he doubted he could have in the dark with the mist from the rain. The day before, no, the one before that, he would have cocked his head at the contemplation and chuckled lightly to himself, but there was no energy for such mannerisms anymore.
It's all Garraty’s fault, he reflected contemptuously, if it wasn’t for him, he would have remained unafflicted by ailments of the living, his mechanical form of cogs and wheels masked as flesh and blood protecting him, he could have stayed that way. If he had, he wouldn’t be hurting now. Damn Garraty and his idea to cease being animals, it was almost as bad as being conjured into one. He knew it was a lie, a desperate, blame shifting lie to maintain the illusion of control. The truth of it was he had began to feel the effects long before returning to human. Even so, he could go on, only one set of legs besides his own made noise, the pitter patter of shoeless feet against the pavement reminding him of a ticking clock, he just needed to last a little longer for his very important date.
The ticking grew louder, faster, and there was a hand laid on his shoulder. Stebbins knew all about the Long Walk, the Major was his father after all, it only made sense for him to, so he knew the Major always greeted the winner by placing a hand on his shoulder. He felt the hardly noticeable start of a pang in his stomach that he couldn’t place. Tea party, I’m going to have a tea party now! His mind exclaimed, and he realized excitement was what he had felt.
Stebbins wondered what he was excited for. Whatever he tried to consume would come up like the crackers and peanut butter from that morning, he had had nothing to eat or drink since. Thinking of it, he finally noticed the lingering taste of vomit in his mouth, making teatime ever the less appealing. He no longer wanted to be invited to the Major’s house either, since he knew his ‘secret’ all along, there was no point. But the desire persisted. McVries, gone that afternoon had said something a while back, what was it? ‘You build it all around something and then don’t want it’, he remembered, Stebbins had probably been amused by the words and smiled at the time, but he supposed he had known no more than him. Only, while McVries didn’t care about outlasting Barkovitch after that, he still wanted his tea party just as badly as before.
When he turned around, to face the end, his eyes struggled for a moment before focusing enough to make out the face. Alice! Alice has caught me! He thought madly upon seeing Garraty, though Stebbins resembled her more, he was the rabbit, because he was being chased, not chasing. He couldn’t recall if Alice ever caught up to the White Rabbit, but figured the information was irrelevant. Garraty had called out a name he no longer recognized, so he failed to register it was addressed towards him.
It seemed the flutter of excitement at the prospect of it all being over was the last bit of energy he had. He understood he was going to die now and felt that was okay. He couldn’t understand why, so he thought hard because it was the last time he would be able to.
He had been chasing the Major, all along, for his acknowledgement, but it was soured because he knew all along, the Major didn’t want him. The hand on his shoulder now, did. Garraty chased him, wanted him, it was nice to be wanted. Garraty told him stories, and talked with him, more than anyone, kept chasing even as he ran away into himself. Maybe he was fine with dying because Garraty gave him what he sought more than that would have. I was never the rabbit. He considered, I was Alice all along, Garraty is the rabbit. But Garraty was chasing him too, and something else, so he supposed they were both both.
With that, he had nothing left, collapsing, instinctually he clutched onto the only thing available, Garraty’s shirt. The panic from falling melted almost immediately into the solace he felt before. Through his fuzzy vision he saw Garraty’s eyes shift from a shock to a calm understanding. His vulnerability felt comfortable rather than suffocating, and a warmth seemed to radiate from somewhere inside of him.
“Oh Garraty!” He cried the most familiar name to him and let himself fall.