| Episode 061 | |
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“Off
the veil, Metallica, Bad Seed
Slate sits across from me in the tiny holding cell. Barely larger than a cheap apartment bedroom, the cell is puke white with bars that are course, standard issue iron gray. The walls outside the bars are equally puke, while the floor is black and white tile in a chessboard pattern. There’s a small window about the size of a computer screen with iron bars and steel mesh. I don’t feel a breeze coming through, so I’m guessing glass is involved somewhere in the equation. Slate’s kind of balled up on the other bench from me; her arms held close, her legs pulled up. Her hair’s falling down around her face, while she just stares. As for me, I’m leaning against the bars, trying desperately to think. My hands are free, but the room has absolutely no spaces or cracks or crevices. I don’t see any chance at all to escape. “Sam.” I look up, as Slate just stares ahead. “Level with me.” She says, in her calmest voice I’ve ever heard. She turns her head, sending her hair spilling away from her face so her eyes can bore a hole through me. “Is he following you?” “Slate, my entire life is confusing hell right now.” I try to convey to her. I shrug, rubbing my back where the cannibal threw me into the shack. “I don’t really know what’s going on. I don’t know who these guys are, who Morcean’s guys are. I certainly don’t know who that big giant guy is that everybody seems so damn interested in.” “But there is a connection between you two.” Slate insists with a calculated tone. I’m getting sick of people drawing a connection between him and me. I’m getting sick of her accusations and her I’m-tougher-than-nails act. I’m getting sick of her . . . “Is he following you?” She practically demands. “It’s a simple question. Yes or no. Is he following you?” And that’s it. “You know what? I don’t know.” I say back at her, my agitation thick in my sarcastic tone. “Why don’t we ask him?” I look up at the roof, throwing my hands up defeatedly. “Hey you!” I shout. “Are you following me?” Nothing. “Huh?!” I shout again, getting up off the bench. I step into the center of the holding cell, angry. “I’m talking to you! Are you following me?!” “Sam.” Slate says forcibly, but calmly. “Are you?! Huh?! HUH?!” “Sam!” Slate screams. “Sam.” I don’t remember blinking. I don’t remember breathing. I don’t remember anything at all. But all of a sudden, I’m not in the holding cell. All of a sudden, I’m not with Slate. All of a sudden, I’m not on the military base. I’m not in a bio-dome, I’m not in the day time, I’m not anywhere near any of it. All of a sudden, I’m back in the parking lot. I feel the wind rake its nails across my skin. I’m staring up at the cloudy sky as the dark ceiling of the world is chased like a current. Through the claw-like trees, the wind howls while the caustic heat of the day is forgotten as I stand atop the pavement of the abandoned home store. And I turn around. He’s There Before Me For a moment, all I can conceive of is fear. Nothing has ever existed before that fear. Nothing will ever exist beyond it. Fear makes up my world, from the smallest particle to the tallest mountain. Fear is all that has ever defined my life. And every tiny shred of fear is standing, towering, looming before me. His black duster hangs low by his feet. His heavy boots seem to seal the bowels of hell beneath his very step, while his gloved hands flex with a might I could never fathom, the exposed tips of his fingers moving knowingly. I look up into his dark eyes. Within his gaze, I can see a knowledge of the world that no human was ever meant to know. I can see before me one who has seen things no human could ever know. And then he speaks. “Sam Helms.” His voice is a cold iron sledgehammer shattering a surgical steel spine. His words are like icy daggers used to amputate my heart. And his gaze is the glaring eye of a nightmare itself, staring down at me from the heights of insanity. “I’m not following you.” He says, his voice making my entire body go numb with terror. And then, with a panther’s deftness, he steps forward. Within the blink of an eye, he slithers towards me, a mountain glacier skating silently over the pavement. And he’s just a breath from me. Just a breath. Just a breath. “I’m guiding you.” My body nearly gives out. My legs buckle as my system threatens to shut down in horror. But I can’t take my eyes off his. The cold stench of death grabs my throat and chokes me, but I can’t even blink. He’s just inches from. Even though he’s well over a foot taller than me, even though he’s huge beyond massive, he’s right there. “Walk the path I’ve laid out for you,” his voice comes to me, his words echoing within my soul like shrapnel from a war story come to life. “And you will be set free, to prosper.” And it seemed impossible to be any more afraid. It wasn’t fear for my life or my safety; it was fear of my soul. It was fear of my eternity. And then I learn that I can truly fear for far, far more. His eyes. They loom before me, less than a breath away. I don’t know how he got closer, but suddenly, he’s there. Instantly before me, his chiseled face like stone come to life, staring me down. “Stray from your destined steps,” He says, the black brim of his hat pushing my hair back as he growls viciously closer. “And not only will they run free,” He burns into my mind. “But you’ll take a place with them, in a domain the devil’s got nothing on.” And I’m back in the cell. I’m dressed in the BDUs. I’m standing with my arms out, my face still contorted in anger. Slate’s staring at me. She’s just barely grasped that something’s wrong. She’s sitting up, her hair falling back as her eyes go wide. I don’t know how she knows it, but she knows. I’m not sure what she knows, but she knows. She knows. “We have to get out of here.” I say. “I know what he wants from me. And we can’t waste any more time.” |
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