Inner Demons

Written by Zelda

 

 

Part Three: Bandaging Hellfire’s Burns

 

 

                Even though 2-D was trying to expect the worst, he was still quite surprised by what he saw lying on the gurney in that little room. He had expected to see Murdoc with a lot more color than he had in the van, and with his hand stitched up and bandaged. Instead, the bassist lay unconscious and still nearly colorless, his skin almost as white as the hospital gown he was wearing. His inverted cross was the only thing the doctors had left on him from before. His hair was mussed and still a little damp, his skin clammy. Tubes ran into his nose, an IV line into one arm, and a blood transfusion line into the other. His heart monitor sounded off a surprisingly sluggish beat. The stitches on his hand were fresh, the sealed wound left open to dry in the air.

                “Murdoc-san?” Noodle peeked around Russel’s frame, trying to see over the edge of the bed.

                “Shh, he’s asleep Noodle.” Russel explained quietly. “Let him rest for now.”

                “Wow…” 2-D started quietly, going around to the other side of his bed to have a better look. “What a mess.”

                “Got that right.” Russel grumbled. “We’re gonna have some real talkin’ to do once he wakes up, you know.”

                2-D looked back at him, sighed, and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, guess so…”

And as if another cue had hit, there was a weak, low grunt from the gurney beneath them.

                “Murdoc-san!” Noodle cheered.

                Russel quickly hushed her as 2-D blinked curiously and leaned in closer to the bed. He cringed a little as he saw Murdoc twitch, mumble something incoherent, and try to move. “Take it easy Murdoc, we’re here, you’re gon’ be okay…” he started quietly.

                Murdoc twitched again, trying to find the strength to make some significant movement, but grimaced and found himself to be too weak. “…Bloody hell----“ he gasped, his voice scratchy and barely audible.

                “Take it easy man.” Russel nodded to him. “You’re in the hospital, they took care of you.”

                “---What?…” Murdoc rasped, eyes still closed.

                “Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Pot?” a voice interrupted. The drummer and vocalist looked to the door to see a doctor waiting for them, looking at her clipboard. “I’m Dr. Thompson, I’ve been assigned to Mr. Niccals’s care while he’s with us in the psych ward. I just need to speak with both of you for a moment.” she gestured to the hallway.

                The two looked at each other for a second, then down to Murdoc. Russel nodded to the doctor, and they both proceeded outside.

                Dr. Thompson glanced back to the now unsupervised Noodle who still remained in the room, gave a light smile, and closed the door halfway.

                “Well doctor, how is he?” Russel asked her.

                2-D remained silent for the moment, glancing between the two of them and scratching an arm distractedly.

                “The injury to the back of his hand is not severe by any means.” Thompson spoke. “He’s in little danger. But his admission papers show a suicide attempt, that’s why he’s here in the psych ward.”

                Russel looked at 2-D for a moment and nodded to the doctor. “That’s what we think. He didn’t cut himself intentionally, but the kid and I found him over a sink, bleeding it out.”

                “Hmm…” the doctor was jotting things down on the clipboard. “I see…”

                “So…” 2-D cleared his throat. “What does ‘at mean..?”

                “I can understand that you three are concerned about him.” Dr. Thompson nodded. “You just want to see things back to normal. All of them do, those that have to go through this. Mr. Niccals’s situation is not unique. While he didn’t try to inflict actual wounds, he was willing to make those that he already had worse off. In non-medical terms, it’s a half-attempted suicide. It will take us a while to fully assess Mr. Niccals’s mental state, and only then will I be able to give you any timetable of him leaving here.”

                “We understand, doctor.” Russel nodded. “We just want to know if there’s anything we can do to help him now.”

                There was a pause as Thompson examined her clipboard. “The thing is...” the doctor started. “That this is bigger than his relationship with any of you, I would think. Mr. Niccals seems like he has some... inner demons, that he’s needed to confront on his own.”

                “So…” 2-D started again. “You’re saying we can’t help?”

                “Not at all.” Thompson shook her head. “If you are his friends, then he will need your support and understanding now. But the one thing that you cannot do is blame yourselves for what has happened. Only Mr. Niccals himself holds the answer to why he did what he did, not you.” There was a beeping noise down the hall, and Dr. Thompson turned away for a moment. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go check in on another patient.”

                “Of course, thank you doctor.” Russel nodded, and he and 2-D both watched her go off. Sighing heavily, he turned and opened the door fully again, as he walked back into Murdoc’s room.

 

                Noodle was standing right where Russel had left her, not having moved an inch. She was, however, standing on tiptoe, twisting her head to try and follow all of the tubes and wires Murdoc had in him, and to understand why they were there.

                Murdoc didn’t seem to notice her at all, he lay with his eyes still closed, still twitching slightly on the gurney.

                “Murdoc, come on man, wake up.” Russel spoke up a little, patting Noodle on the shoulder as he and 2-D approached.

                The bassist grumbled lowly, as if he were reluctant to be roused out of a deep sleep. “Where the--- bloody fuck…am I..?”

                “The hospital.” Russel repeated. “Wake up, we’ve gotta talk.”

                “Russel, don’tcha think we should, um, do this later?” 2-D blinked at him. “I mean, he’s tired and all, we should let ‘im rest…”

                Russel sighed. “Guess we should.” He went to sit down on a chair in the corner, and Noodle followed him, skipping a little.

                “Murdoc-san talk! He now okay!”

                As she latched herself to Russel’s arm again, 2-D stayed by Murdoc’s bed, staring emptily into space.

                “Stu-Pot…” Murdoc started. “What—happened?”

                “Go back to sleep.” 2-D replied, looking down at him. “We’ll talk when ya feel better.” 2-D then ambled away to sit in the room’s other chair, directly across from Russel’s. The hospital room was small, but not cramped. There was a small table and two chairs below a small window. Murdoc’s gurney sat in the middle, head to the wall, and then there was the door, and cabinets of medical supplies. 2-D curled up and hugged his knees again, and picked up a magazine that was lying on the table.

                Russel was again oblivious to Noodle being attached to him, and stared at the floor, looking like he was going to drop off to sleep himself. “Fool, man.” he grumbled under his breath, and closed his eyes as he let his head nod against his chest.

                After a few moments, Noodle let go of Russel’s arm, and wandered back to Murdoc’s bed. He didn’t appear to be sleeping, so she reached out and touched his good hand, rubbing it a little. His skin was still clammy and pale. “Cold…” she muttered, and shook her head disapprovingly. There was a blanket rolled up and the foot of the bed, and she spread it out over him and tucked the edges neatly under the mattress. Noodle smiled, satisfied with her job, and took another look at Murdoc’s face. His reaction had barely changed, maybe he was asleep after all. Shrugging it off, the little girl went back over to Russel, grabbing a magazine off the table and sitting on the floor beside his chair to look at the pictures.

 

                2-D awoke with a little snort as he heard a familiar voice. Or at least, a familiar noise. He recognized Murdoc growling, and he rubbed his eyes as a barely-read magazine fell off of his knees, and to the floor.

A rather overweight nurse with her hair pulled into a bun looked over for a moment, nodded as if she was bored, and went back to working with one of the IV bags that lined into Murdoc’s good arm.

                The bassist let out another low growl as she unplugged the line from the needle, not opening his eyes, shifting slightly on the bed.

                The nurse hooked another clear plastic bag of warm saline onto its rung, and plugged the new tube that led from it back into the taped-down needle.

                The slow feed of warmth caused Murdoc to finally open his eyes, and sneeze weakly.

                The nurse glanced at him for a moment, and then turned her head slightly to speak over her shoulder in a voice that sounded like she was nearing the end of her shift. “He’s up, you can talk to him.” And with that, she saddled out, throwing the old IV bag and line in a hazardous waste bin near the door.

                2-D shook himself awake, feeling a headache rattle to life as he uncoiled himself in the chair. He glanced quickly up to a clock on the wall. When had they brought him in here? Late last night he supposed… and now it was seven in the morning. Light was filtering in through the window. The next glance was to his two other bandmates, revealing Russel still sleeping in his chair, Noodle leaning against his leg on the floor, asleep as well. But Murdoc was awake. The vocalist pushed out of the chair, stretching a little as he stood, and crept over to his gurney. “Hey Murdoc…” he started quietly.

                “Bluudy fook…” the bassist slurred heavily, squinting before he opened his mismatched eyes again. “Stu-Pot…?”

                “Feelin’ better?” 2-D yawned slightly, running a hand through his indigo spikes. “It’s morning already.”

                “What happened—?” his voice was still scratchier than usual.

                “You… don’ remember?” 2-D frowned a little.

                “I wouldn’t… fooking ask… if I did.” Murdoc winced as he tried to move a little.

                “Umm…” the vocalist hesitated. “Mebbe I should go wake Russel up…”

                “The cut…” Murdoc grunted. “It’s that, isn’t it?”

                2-D continued his nervous retreat back to the other side of the room, and he shook Russel lightly on the shoulder.

                The drummer snorted awake as well, and looked quickly up at 2-D. “What’s up, somethin’ wrong?”

                “No, he’s awake.” 2-D answered quietly, and then glanced down to Noodle.

                “Let her sleep, Dee.” Russel nodded, and the vocalist backed a few paces away to let Russel stand up and yawn. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, the drummer walked up to Murdoc’s bed, pausing a moment to look at him.

                “Take a fooking picture—“ Murdoc spat.

                “Just what I expected.” Russel growled back. “You’d better have a good reason for this one, Muds.”

                “I don’t ‘ave to answer to you…” he started, sitting up a little.

                “But you will have to answer to da doc if you want ‘em to let you outta this loony bin.” Russel interrupted. “So practice on us.”

                “What… the fuck are you talking about?” Murdoc snarled. “I can’t see straight--- feel like I can’t fooking move…” he winced as he tried to flex his injured hand. “Wot’s to explain?”

                “Start by telling us why you wanted to commit suicide, Muds.” Russel folded his arms, opting for a direct approach. “Start by telling us why I found Noodle trying to pull your stinkin’ half-corpse down from the sink in your Winnie. Tell us why we were all scared to death drivin’ your ass here last night. Go ahead.”

                To this, Murdoc replied with silence, but he didn’t have his usual stone-faced glare. He blinked, his clashing eyes blank, some of his hair still in his face. After a moment, he opened his mouth, but all that came out was a rather cut-off grunt. The bassist frowned a little, and then tried again. “I… dunno.”

                “You don’t know?” Russel repeated, his frown deepening. “Sounds like somethin’ Dee would say about what to have for lunch.”

                2-D winced a little and shifted a bit to hide behind Russel’s back. This was growing into an argument, one that he didn’t want to be involved in.

                The drummer saw 2-D’s retreat, and kneaded his forehead, forcing himself to calm down. “Look Muds, the only reason that I’m mad is because this didn’t have to happen, you know? Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Russel asked. “About you wantin’ to kill yourself?”

                Another long pause came from Murdoc. For once, the quick-mouthed bassist appeared to be at a loss for words. “I didn’t want to... not really... I don’t think...”

                “Like hell you don’t.” Russel interrupted, who was not one for sarcasm or language. The frustration and anger in his voice was evident. “Look man, I don’t love you like my momma or nothin’, but the last thing I want is for the leader of my band to be dead. We care about you, you dig?”

                “We... like... you good... Murdoc.” Noodle’s voice sounded softly from behind 2-D. She blinked and peeked out from behind his skinny legs, twisting her head to get a better look at Murdoc.

                Russel felt more flustered upon realizing that Noodle had been awake. She didn’t need to hear them in anything that would resemble a fight. “You shoulda told me, told us.” Russel nodded, his voice calm again. “It woulda saved you this.” Murdoc replied with a skeptical frown up at his drummer, and with a huff, Russel threw a hand up. Keeping himself from saying anything more, he turned his back to the gurney and opened the door to the hallway. “I’m getting coffee.” he grumbled, and was gone.

                Murdoc gave a like huff, after Russel had left, and made an effort to mirror the drummer’s turning his back by throwing his head off to one side. “Bloody fuck.” he growled. “Wot’s the big deal…?”

                2-D shifted uncomfortably, scratching one arm. “Well, Murdoc… you tried to kill yerself…”

                “Why does every’ne keep saying that?” Murdoc turned his head back and locked his eyes on the bottomless orbits of his band’s vocalist. “I wasn’t…” he trailed off, frowning.

                “Well then…” 2-D looked at the white linoleum floor tiles as he spoke. “Wot were you doin’?”

                To this, there was another moment of awkward silence from Murdoc. He frowned slightly, then shrugged. “I… I dunno.”

                “Well…. neither do we.” 2-D replied simply, blinking his eyes.

                The two bandmates shared a moment of silence, staring at each other, the frown on Murdoc’s face growing deeper with his own confusion, while 2-D’s remained blank.

                Noodle stood still, peering quizzically between the two men, unable to understand most of what either was saying. “Food?” she asked, interrupting.

                “I… fink I am kinda hungry.” 2-D smiled a little down at her, and rubbed his stomach. “Murdoc?”

                “Thirsty.” was his grudging reply.

                Noodle spotted a plastic pitcher of water on a table beside the gurney, along with a few paper cups. “Food!” she cheered, and hopped off to get Murdoc a glass.

                “Guess Russ’ll get some stuff for us.” 2-D shrugged. “If he’s gonna get coffee…”

                Murdoc had lapsed into staring at the ceiling.

                2-D shifted uncomfortably again. He had no idea what to say to his bandleader, he had no idea what to say about anything at the moment. He needed some of his pills, and a good smoke. Thankfully, he had a good supply of both in his pockets. Soon as Russel was back, he’d down some painkillers, and then see if he could find a better way to deal with the situation. For now, he crept back to the chair he had slept in, and folded himself up again, his arms unfurled with an elbow braced on each knee.

                Murdoc huffed again, and continued to stare.

                Noodle had poured a cup of water, and was now standing on tiptoe to give it to her bassist. “Here!” she chirped.

                Glancing over, Murdoc tried to raise his good arm to take the paper cup from her, but found that it was shaking too badly. He nearly spilled the cup, and growled in frustration.

                Blinking, Noodle shrugged, and then climbed up onto some of the metal bars on the side of the gurney, to lift herself up higher. She helped Murdoc hold the cup steady as he took a long draught of water, and then sat back with a loud gulp.

                “Oi…” he gurgled slightly. “Need s’more vodka… and a fag.”

                2-D was about to stand and offer Murdoc one of his, but he sat sheepishly again as he remembered you couldn’t smoke in a hospital.

                “Now Murdoc good!” Noodle giggled, made him slug down another gulp of water, and jumped back down to the floor.

                2-D had to let out a chuckle at Noodle’s bedside manner. She’d brighten up this stale room.

                Murdoc sneezed and shot a poisonous glare to the vocalist. “What’s so fooking funny, dullard?”

                “N.. nofink...” 2-D stammered, curling up a bit more on the chair.

Weak as he looked, Murdoc’s attitude was back in full form. “You’re amused, face-ache, ‘cos I supposedly tried to axe meeself? That it?”

                “No!” 2-D protested. “Ain’t that at all Murdoc! I’m sorry.”

                “That you are.” the bassist scratched. “You’ve gotten yourself into the ‘ospital enough, now ‘at I’m stuck here you’re fookin’ amused.”

                “I was just laughin’ at Noodle, only joshing Murdoc!” he insisted, instinctively putting his arms up in front of his face.

                Narrowing his eyes at the submissive vocalist, Murdoc leaned up in bed, bringing up his bad hand to push himself. He was interrupted by a snarl of pain, and he flopped back against the gurney, holding his hand and seething. He lay still for a few minutes, eyes closed. “Fucking Christ….”

                “Murdoc, please…” 2-D started. “Whatever happened, we jus’ wanna see ya better, things back to normal…”

                This time it was Murdoc who let out the chuckle. “Normal…” he snorted quietly. “I bloody wish…”

                The vocalist looked at the floor, once again unsure of what to say. “We do too…” he ventured.

                Murdoc let out a grunt and rolled onto his side, away from 2-D, pulling the blanket over his head with him.

                Noodle blinked up to 2-D in question, and the singer patted her shoulder. “Come on, he’s sleepy. Let’s go see Russel.” He led her out of the room, taking a short glance at the covered Murdoc before he shut the door behind him. He waited until he was sure the latch had shut, to let out a heavy sigh.

                “2-D-san sad too?” Noodle looked up at him. “Why?”

                “Nothin’ kiddo.” 2-D faked a smile and mussed up her hair, causing the girl to giggle. “You keep goin’ straight down the hall, out to the carpark, get yerself some chow, eh? I’ll be right behind you.”

                “Kay!” Noodle was off towards the entrance to the ward, curiously peeking in doors as she went.

                2-D watched her until she turned a corner and was out of sight, and then he turned around, taking a short walk to the loo.

 

                Russel sat swinging his legs out of the back of the van, looking around quietly and sipping a cup of coffee. A box of doughnuts that sat beside him was his only company for the moment. The sky was a light gray, the air made just a little too chilly every now and then by a faint breeze. It was gonna be one gloomy day. The drummer blinked, took another sip of coffee, and tried to sort through what was left to be done today. He’d already taken care of most of the paperwork for Murdoc, he’d have to go back to Kong Studios to rummage for some more files though. Maybe he’d take Noodle and 2-D with him. Surely they didn’t wanna hang out around here all day, and especially not with Murdoc in one of his old moods. Russel was content to let the psych doctors work with him, for now. As he thought, he suddenly caught a fast-moving object out of the corner of his eye. No sooner did he turn to look, than Noodle let out a short laugh and jumped up into his lap, nearly spilling his coffee. “Whoa, watch it girl!” he said, but couldn’t help a smile. “Guess you’re in a good mood this morning, at least one of us is.”

                Noodle blinked for a moment, trying to work out the English, but being unable to, she opened her mouth wide, gaping it at Russel and pointing into it.

                “Hungry huh?” he grinned, and then handed her the box of doughnuts. “There ya go, got the ones with the sprinkles on ‘em, just how you like.”

                “Arigato!” Noodle cheered, and sprung into the van’s backseat with the box in her clutches.

                Russel took another gulp of coffee, and then noticed something. “Noodle, why isn’t 2-D with you? Did he stay with Muds?”

                Doughnut in mouth, she poked her head up above the back of the seat, and shook it in a negative.

            “Hmm, well I’m gonna go find him, you stay here, okay?” Noodle responded with a nod, and he started back for the hospital again. The nurse in the psych ward, who recognized him from the night before, kindly let him into the hall. Instead of going into Murdoc’s room, Russel passed by it, heading for the bathroom a few doors down. This time of the morning was prime for 2-D to be stricken with another one of his killer headaches, and he swung the door open to see that the blue-haired vocalist was indeed standing by the sinks, looking at his bottle of painkillers. Russel blinked at 2-D, watching him for a moment. Normally, he would pop the cap off of the bottle, slug down a few pills, and go on as normal. Now, he stood leaning over the sink, staring at the bottle, peeling at the label absently with the edge of a thumbnail. “Dee man, you okay?”

                2-D started, frightened for a moment by the sound of Russel’s voice. “Whoa, didn’t know you were in here…” he smiled sheepishly.

                “You okay?” Russel repeated.

                “Yeah, just got another ‘edache…” he shrugged, still thumbing the label as he glanced back up at the drummer.

                Russel went over to a sink and started to wash his hands, half because he needed to and half because he was watching 2-D. The vocalist zoned out again, and was back to staring at the bottle, peeling the label. Russel frowned a little as he realized 2-D wasn’t doing that out of boredom, but was repeating the action over and over, staring down at the bottle with shy, nervous eyes. Russel yanked a paper towel out of the dispenser, and sighed. “Dee, if you wanna talk, you know I’m here.”

                “Yeah, I know… Thanks Russ.” 2-D didn’t look up.

                “Anytime man.” the drummer nodded back, still watching carefully. He thought he knew what was eating at 2-D. It was the same thing that was eating at himself. “Come on Dee, you know it’s not your fault, remember what the doc said?” Russel frowned sympathetically. “Sure Murdoc gets angry with you, he gets angry with all of us. That’s just the way he is. I bet if none of us were around, he’d be angry with himself.”

                “Maybe that’s it…” 2-D murmured quietly.

                “What’d you say?”

                “Maybe that’s it… “ 2-D repeated, as if he were talking to himself out loud. “He’s just mad at himself… takes it out on us… Or maybe we just make it worse.”

                Russel shook his head. “It’s not about us, man, it’s about him. He didn’t decide to bleed himself out because he thought our practice was bad, it’s deeper than that.”

2-D finally looked back up at the drummer, his eyes hollow and lost.

Russel walked over and put a hand on the vocalist’s shoulder, taking the bottle of pills out of his hand. “We can only do so much, Dee. This is somethin’ he’s gotta work at, more than all of us put together.” Russel sighed again. “Listen, I got some doughnuts and stuff for breakfast, it’s in the van, Noodle’s there too. Let’s just go out there and eat, I think we all need a little break.”

                “Kay.” 2-D said quietly. He took the bottle back from Russel, quickly popped the lid, shook out his normal dosage of pills, and washed them down with a handful of water from the sink. “Let’s go.”

 

                Whatever relief the three bandmates had gotten through their breakfast together quickly disappeared as they re-entered the hospital. They had all made up their minds that they would go back to the studio, and leave Murdoc in the care of the doctors. None of them were having any fun here, and the three of them definitely needed their rest after last night’s ordeal. Noodle’s spirit had begun to wear especially thin. Russel was first in line as they walked back into the psych ward, to say goodbye to him for the day. They hadn’t gotten far when they heard a lot of noise from his room, and suddenly saw the fat nurse scuttle through the doorframe, followed a few seconds later by an empty bedpan that sailed by and hit the wall across the hallway, clattering to the floor.

                “Whoa, everything okay?” Russel started a jog.

                The nurse held her hand up and nodded, coughing a little. “Ehh, happens all the time with these people. If he weren’t in such rough shape, we’d cuff him to the bed.” With a shrug, she went off down the hall, and disappeared through the next open door.

                2-D gulped nervously.

                “Come on Dee, he’ll have a chance to relax once he knows we’re gone.” Russel nodded, and continued on, peeking his head into the room.

                “And this medicine tastes like piss!” Murdoc growled, finishing a remark that he intended for the nurse that had fled. He looked surprised to see Russel instead.

                “Nice to see you too, man.” Russel nodded, and walked in, followed by 2-D and Noodle.

                “So yer back.” Murdoc growled. “What is it?”

                “We just came to tell ya we’re goin’ back to the Studios…” 2-D started. “Want us to get you anyfink?”

                “No, no, I’m sure that you’re content---“ Murdoc was interrupted by a round of coughing. “Content to leave me ‘ere. These docs are the real crazy ones.”

                “Sure.” Russel rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back later, gotta get some medical papers for you.”

                “Well then, wot’s keepin’ you ‘ere?” Murdoc tried to sit up again, gesturing to the door with his good hand. “I’m surprised security ain’t thrown yer asses out already.”

                Russel frowned. “We’ll see you later Muds.” And with that, he turned and walked out, followed by Noodle. 2-D hung back for a moment, looking at Murdoc long enough to evoke another poisonous glare from the bassist. He scurried back out after his bandmates, and left the door open behind him.

 

 

                2-D was far more comfortable here than the plastic chairs of the waiting room. He was staring up at the ceiling of his own room, with the feel and the smell of his own bedsheets and pillows around him. Even though his room was dark, he knew what was in there with him, and where it was despite the fact that he couldn’t see. It brought him a sense of security on most nights, as he’d snuggle down and forget about the pain that was assaulting his mind. But tonight, he wasn’t focusing on either. His sleeplessness was caused by the fact that one resident of Kong Studios was deprived of the security of his own space tonight. He knew exactly what it was like to have to fall asleep in a strange bed, with the bleeping of machines around him, with tubes and needles poking into his body, strange drugs working their way through his bloodstream. Despite being wrapped up in his orange sheets, 2-D shivered as if he were cold. It was the thought that did it. The truth was that 2-D felt a little guilty for leaving Murdoc in the hospital. He wasn’t alone, but he didn’t know anyone there. 2-D knew that he would feel lonely if he were in that sort of a situation. But then again, he thought, Murdoc was different. He didn’t look like he would miss them much when they left that afternoon, he was too busy throwing his bedpan at a nurse when they came to say goodbye. And so they all went back, and sorta shut themselves away for the day. 2-D had a half-hearted sandwich for lunch, which actually only consisted of a few pieces of bread. After that, he shut himself in the silence of his room. Russel had spent most of his time in the living room, TV off, sorting through files and papers. And Noodle had been wandering, spending most of her time perched atop the Winnebago in the carpark. Understandingly, nobody wanted to go inside. There was a lot of blood on the floor still, something that someone would have to eventually clean up. 2-D shivered again, turning over and bunching the sheets around him. He closed his eyes, and wished for sleep to come to him.

 

                Russel sighed slowly as he closed Noodle’s door behind her. The poor girl, he was glad that she found some sort of comfort in him tucking her in. She seemed a lot more nervous than usual, probably because they were a man down in Kong Studios tonight. This was the first time something like this had happened to them as a band, maybe to her as a person. Maybe she was just starting to get a grip of what had happened.

                “Kid’s too innocent…” a voice started, echoing from a far corner of his head.

                “Huh?” Russel asked, not hearing completely. He felt vision blur for a moment, and an apparition formed before him, glowing in light blue and straightening a gold chain around its neck. “You know what I mean Russ. She may be little ‘n all, ain’t no excuse. She’s gonna learn da hard way.”

                “Hey, it ain’t like she’s on her own here Del.” Russel reasoned with him.

                “Ehh, you got a point.” the ghost shrugged back. “You’re a good man Russ, takin’ care of the lil’ tyke like that. Who woulda known?”

                Russel smiled a little at that, and started walking down the hallway to his own room. “Not me, bro.”

                “Surprised the hell outta me too.” Del cuffed him on the shoulder.

                “So Del, you’ve been seein’ all this mess.” Russel turned to him as he walked. “Never got to ask you what you thought.”

                “About Muds?” Del quirked an eyebrow. “Guy’s not right in the head, not that I’ve been knockin’ around in dere or anything.”

                “So he really did try to kill himself?”

                “Well, I wouldn’t go that far out.” Del thought. “I mean, that bass thing was an accident, ya dig? But I guess it sent him over de edge.”

                “So what do we do now?” Russel asked. “I mean, when I went back there tonight, they had him so drugged up he looked like Dee on an overdose. Last thing we need is two zombies in this band.”

                Del snorted slightly. “You just play it cool Russ. Let the docs handle him, drug him up with whatever. It ain’t like they’re guessin’ at this stuff.”

                “Ya right, ya right.” Russel admitted. “I’m lettin’ all dis get to my head. But I mean come on, our band leader nearly killed himself Del, what am I supposed ta think?”

                “Hey, you a good brother Russ.” Del nodded. “Worryin’ yo ass off about people, takin’ care of Noodle and all that. Muds may be de leader of y’all, but you’re tha backbone. Still, it’s outta yo hands now, you know? Try not to be all uptight, gives me less livin’ space, ya dig?”

                “Heh, I’ll try.” Russel smiled. “Thanks Del.”

                “G’night brotha.” the ghost nodded, and suddenly vanished back into the confines of the drummer’s skull.

                Left to his own devices once again, Russel yawned and entered his room, closing the door behind him.

 

End of Part Three