| Episode 058 | |
|
“There
will be no mercy, only slain bodies and taken souls.
The darkness pervades all. It seeps into our tiny little room,
strangling away the light in an instant.
I can feel the air shift as the giant moves. I can smell the acrid
stench of his sweat and I can smell, feel, know, the horror that creeps up
his spine. Because it’s creeping up mine.
I don’t know how he knows, but he knows, just as I do. He knows
that the power didn’t turn off. He knows that it’s not an electrical
short. He knows that there is nothing in the world mechanically wrong with
the electrical systems of the shack.
And when we both hear it, we both know that the noise that echoes
from far off in the distance isn’t the sound of the wind.
Its footsteps.
Heavy, solid, angry footsteps.
I can tell he’s looking up at me. Even in the darkness, I know
where he’s looking. I know what he’s thinking. In an instant, his
life, whatever it is, flashes before his eyes. I can hear his thoughts. I
can tell his fears. He’s wondering about me. He’s wondering if maybe
he can still strike against me. He’s wondering if maybe he can still in
some way harm me, as if that might buy him some time, give him a
bargaining chip, or just maybe help him to escape.
But then I feel the madness take him over. I can hear the sick
voices of delusion and insanity whisper into his ear, seep into his mind
like blood-stained mud washing through the tiny crevices of his deformed
and warped brain.
I hear him turn. He storms out, leaving Slate and I dangling.
I hear him grab up his axe. And his knife. And dressed still in
only briefs, he storms out of the shack. And I hear the sloppy, wet falls
of his nervous steps as they rush into the night.
I turn to Slate. In the darkness, I can just barely see her face.
“What’s going on?” She whispers. I can feel the fear in her soul as
well. Even in the heat of the dark night, we both shiver. The darkness is
there with us, reminding of us of all our childhood fears. We don’t
dangle in a room, we dangle over the very bowels of hell, potentially
falling in at any moment.
I listen. I can hear his footsteps. I hear him trudging into the
night. I hear his axe carried ready. I hear his knife carried
knowledgably. I look at Slate. “He’s going to die.” I whisper. She
stares at me, confusion awash across her face. She’s about to speak. But
then she hears it.
The heavy footsteps. The powerful, intentional, purposeful steps.
“Oh my god.” She whispers, as fear crawls up her back like a
poisonous spider drawing its moist fangs long the indention of her spine.
We hear a shriek of fury. We hear the exertion of him swinging the
axe.
And we hear the axe bury itself into the ground.
Then we hear the kick.
And the axe handle breaking like a twig.
We hear the knife swung through the air.
Then we hear the punch.
And his arm breaking like a twig.
Then we hear another punch.
And another.
Then we hear his body grabbed.
Then we hear his spine snapped like a twig. But it doesn’t stop. Not by a long shot. I rub my wrists, my entire
mind numb. Standing in the doorway between the two rooms of the tiny
shack, I stare at nothing, determined to not think. Ever. I don’t really
mind the half body of the boy just behind my left shoulder, or the other
boy’s few remains on the table next to me. I just stare away from the
one door, determined to stay within the light that’s still flickering as
it comes back to life. I hear the door open, but I
don’t need to turn to know its Slate. “There’s no sign of either of
them.” She says. “I’ve found the axe, and the knife. I found the
tracks that were left, but I can’t follow them in the dark, even with
the flashlight.”
She comes around in front of me as I continue to pay attention to
only my wrist. “Sam, what is that thing?”
I just stare down at my wrists.
“Sam!” She demands.
“I don’t know.” I finally say. My words aren’t really
coming from me. They’re coming from somewhere else, something inside me.
Something that doesn’t want to be yelled at. I just, just can’t think
right now. I just need a minute to think.
“Sam, you’re in shock.” Slate says, moving up close to me.
“Sam, look at me.” She says.
“No.” I say, staring at my wrist.
“Sam, look at me!” She insists, grabbing my wrist. I turn my
head away from her. I stare down at the pile of entrails at the feet of
the boy. “Sam!” She screams.
It’s not me that moves. I’m sitting quietly against the
doorframe. I’m just a little shaken, that’s all. I’m not really mad.
I’m not really pissed or violent. But I also don’t do that. Someone
else does. Someone else lunges at her. Someone else pushes her against the
wall. Someone else screams at her. And that someone grabs me up and yanks
me out into the night.
And then I’m suddenly slammed back into my own body. I don’t
know where I am. The night is everywhere. I don’t know how long I’ve
been walking, but my legs ache. I don’t know what’s going on or
anything. I think I have to work today, but I can’t tell if I’ve
stayed up all night or if I have to go to bed. I think I have a project
due later this week, or was it next week? I know I’m supposed to go
riding with the guys tomorrow night, to practice for the demo show in two
weeks. And I know they got the tire in for my bike, but I can’t remember
if it’s the front tire or the rear tire.
I wake up covered in a blanket.
I look around, but flat dirt is everywhere. I glance around the
area, but it’s all exactly the same. The sky is overcast, and a mist
hangs so thick, I can barely see in any direction. From the ground up,
it’s just misty white.
I look down at my feet, for the first time realizing I’m lying
against some type of an incline. I see a pair of packs, but that’s all.
And then I feel something move.
I look over with a start to see Slate next to me. She’s huddled
up against me, her blanket pulled tight around her. I look close, to see
her eyes fluttering. She’s dreaming.
“I thought I had seen everything.” Slate says, as she sits next
to me, both of us slowly chewing our granola bars. “I thought between
the zombies and the vampires, that would be it. But . . .” She just
chews. She looks up at me, her exhaustion showing as she pulls her blanket
around her. “What is he?” She asks.
I stare down, still trying to think. “I don’t know.” I say,
the cold morning chilling us through our skin into our bones. “He’s
not part of, you know, any of this.” I say, motioning towards the large
world beyond us, cloaked beyond the mist.
“I figured.” Slate responds with only a small touch of sarcasm.
“Do you know why he showed up, just out of the blue?”
I don’t say anything.
“That’s the second time he’s done that.” She says, her
voice gaining a touch of strength. “The first time was when Morcean was
going to shoot us. The second time was when that big guy was going to kill
us.”
I don’t say anything.
But I don’t need to.
“No.” She says, her voice going hard. I try not to look at her,
but my eyes make a valiant struggle against my will. “Not us. You.”
She stands up, her blanket flying off of her. “It was when Morcean was
going to shoot you. And when that guy was talking about eating you.” She
steps away from me, fear and anger crossing over her face. “You, and he
. . .”
I look up at her. I don’t have any strength to fight with her. I
don’t have the power to dispute her. Nor do I have any reason why I
should.
“You’re with him.” She accuses, pointing at me. “You’re
part of him or whatever it is.” She steps back farther. I want to get up
and follow her. I want to dispute her. I want to argue with her. But I
can’t.
“You’re with him.” She practically yells, almost ten feet
from me now. “You’re in league with him. You’re . . .”
“. . . under arrest.” Comes a voice from out of the mist. |
|
| Previous Episode |
|