“They’re coming! They’re coming!”
What?
What just happened?
He shook, a sudden chill overcoming him. He awoke and looked around.
A mirror. He was in the bathroom, staring into the mirror of the R.V.
There was no Pam. There was no moment.
There was no gray light shining through gold strands. There weren’t kisses that tasted like summer and lingered like July. There wasn’t the loose clothing or the undone buttons. There wasn’t that smile, the one he had never seen before and wanted to see forever.
There wasn’t anything at all.
The bathroom door slammed in. A pale arm reached for him and pulled him out of the small compartment.
“Jim! Follow me!”
A distant moaning could be heard, and he was only momentarily reminded of Pam.
“Do you have your gun?” Dwight's voice gave him power. It made Jim tremble. But he would never say that to Dwight.
...never say that.
Pam...
“…What?”
“JIM. LISTEN TO ME. DO YOU HAVE YOUR GUN?”
“…I can’t remember. Where’s Pam?”
“I thought she was with you.”
There was an immediate silence. The groans stopped.
“Michael, still there?” Dwight asked.
“Yeah. Stealth mode. Rambo.” Michael hid silently underneath the table, covering himself with potted ferns scattered on the ground. He put a line of dirt under both eyes and turned to them. "Bitches."
Dwight turned to Jim and proceeded to equip him with ammunition and a gun.
“Where was she last?” Dwight asked. His intense yellow button-up shirt had faded behind the omniscient fog and the clouded skies.
“The back room.” Jim was still distant, still glass-eyed.
Dwight, in front, tip-toed slowly to the back. His gun in front of him, he inched closer and closer to the flooded, paper-thin door. His breathing, along with Jim’s, continued to get heavier and heavier.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Michael jumped from underneath the table and kicked open the door, landing on the bed where Pam lay. The dust settled.
“Were you guys just going to stand there in front of a curtain for a million years? C’mon! Like Martin Luther King, Jr., restinpeace, once said, you have to do what’s right in HERE.” He pointed to his heart.
Dwight turned and shook his head. "When did he say that?"
"...After he was born. You know what, Dwight-"
Pam still didn’t move.
Jim jumped on the bed, cautiously rolled her over.
“Pam?" He whispered into her ear. "Pam! PAM!” He began to frantically yell. Tears welled up whatwouldhedowithouther howcouldhego-
She slowly opened her eyes.
“Woah. What’s going on?”
Jim smiled.
“We were just…you know, I don’t really know exactly.” Jim said.
“Emergency drill.” Dwight said. Then turned to the front of the R.V. and took his position in the drivers’ seat. Michael soon followed.
Jim, still awkwardly stradled over Pam, quickly moved. She smiled and sat up.
“That was a nice cover up by Dwight.”
“What are you talking about, Pam?”
“Well, it’s obvious that you just wanted to get me in bed, and in the process, devised a mischievious little number acted out in full-force by Michael Scott.”
“I can’t hide it anymore. I really wanted to be the kick-open-the-door-person, but you know Michael. I had to let him. And I had to tend to the Pam duties. Which included a bed.”
She smiled and he couldn’t help but be reminded of his earlier fantasy. He stared at her, just thinking and dreaming while her face slowly melted into an expression of concern.
“We should go to the front, you know, make sure everything is alright.”
“Yeah.”
-
“How 'effing long do we have to wait for this guy, Dwight?”
“Well, Michael, according to my calculations, he will come in an automobile of some kind." He paused while looking through binoculars. "Or possibly on foot. Maybe even – “
“A train? Could he come on a train?” Pam continued.
"Or a plane?" Jim peered over at her and silently chuckled.
“Not funny guys. He wouldn’t come on a train anyway. There aren’t any tracks. Unless, of course, he’s created a super-magnetic train. And he is Magneto. But I don’t think his technology is that advance- Wait.” Dwight paused and glared out the front windshield. “…Is that…Angela?”
In the distance, rounding the corner, stood Angela. She began to walk normally, in her high-class uptight stride…
“I thought she jumped off of the building…?” Pam asked.
Angela knocked on the door to the R.V.
Michael ran back underneath the table, taking all available ferns with him for camoflauge.
“What do we do now?”
“Same thing we did with Ryan. Test time. And she better not fail. Because in this test, if you fail, you die. Transitive property.”
Angela knocked harder on the door. “Let me in, Dwight. I saw you from the corner.”
“Okay, Angela. But first, a little test. A human test, if you will. To prove your…humanninities. First, prove that you are Angela.”
“…Do you really want me to do that?”
“Yes.” He winked at her, and in their own form of code she answered.
“Two weeks ago I made you 'cookies'. And you said they were your favorite. Because this time I used a little bit of...brown sugar.”
“Just what I wanted to hear. Come in.”
Angela arrived inside, wearing two gray shoes.
“What happened?” Dwight asked after attempting to give her some sort of embrace.
“My shoe fell off while we were atop the Dunder-Mifflin roof and I … don’t know. I just starting thinking…and decided to jump. I can’t remember anything after that. All I know is that I was injected with something…and I’m not sure what.”
“Let me see.” Dwight immediately pulled her close to him in a frantic way. Inspecting the injected area, Dwight frantically said:
“That’s why you’re alive! You died, but you were injected with the cure!”
“…Shouldn’t she be a zombie then?” Pam asked as she began to pull out her gun and back away.
“No! Because, see, she was never bitten after she got injected...” And as he lifted her hand, he saw the bites surrounding her arms. The light senguine blood had hidden itself and revealed the truth.
“Oh…I thought I was…okay…” Angela’s coherency became less and less decipherable as she tried to explain. Breathing heavily, Dwight kissed her, the last time he ever would.
“I love you.”
“I … love… you … more.” At that, Angela took his gun, pointed it to her head, and shot herself.
Dwight collapsed on the floor, entangled in her hair that had melted from her head. In an oil and water combination, her essence mixed with that of the dead to create a rainbow of red. Her face was young, but transparent and white. Veins were bare and her nails were yellow. He held her head and rocked back and forth.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box.
“Angela…”
He slipped a diamond encrusted ring onto her stale, gray finger.
What else could they do?
Author's Chapter Notes:
Fourth installment! Jim finds out what is real and what isn't. Michael kicks! and then hides. Pam is beautiful. and Dwight...had bigger plans.
ourcarscollide is the author of 2 other stories.
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