Authors: James Roy Daley
She was suffering.
Suffering. Suffering.
He was drifting away. Drifting.
Drifting into the nothing, into the darkness, into the black.
Into the abyss––
Blackened.
Red.
Blood.
Dead bodies.
Tombstones.
Pain and suffering.
Vengeance. Retribution.
Walking, living scarecrows.
Rain. Thunder continuing.
Lightning. Two times. And with the lightning James saw Johnny among the scattered few.
Johnny.
Johnny walking.
Walking to the cottage––walking with the dead. Leading them to him.
Johnny, with a self-inflicted bullet hole in his head and blood dripping endlessly––he was bringing the dead through the darkness, the rain, the thunder and the lightning. Johnny was bringing the dead.
The dead were coming.
The dead would be here soon.
And a single red balloon floated above them.
Drip; drip; drip.
A single red balloon.
The dead were coming.
100
The Bakisi circled the town until it picked up another scent. This time, it found the scent inside the hospital. It traveled floor to floor, searching. It moved past the elevators and along the patterned floor. It moved past a row of vending machines and an open concept waiting room. Finally it found Mathew’s room.
It entered.
Mathew was in the same position he had been in all day. Anne was beside him in the chair, asleep.
The Bakisi didn’t wait; it didn’t hesitate. It killed Anne quickly, cutting a five-inch incision in her throat. Anne fell to the floor with her rosary wrapped around her fingers. Blood pooled around her head. A string of spittle hung between her lips, which opened and closed until the end. She never said a word. She never even opened her eyes.
As the Bakisi turned away, Mathew sat up. He reached out with his mouth wide. He took hold of the Bakisi and squeezed it inside his tiny bruised hands.
Then everything changed.
* * *
Mathew was sitting beside an old man on a park bench. The sun was shining and the air was warm and still. The old man looked to be a hundred and fifty years old or more, and older still if you saw into his eyes. His eyes were black pools of what seemed to be infinity. He was dressed plainly, in a long thin coat without color. He wore dark shoes and dark pants.
Mathew said, “Why are you doing this?”
The old man turned towards the boy. His teeth were long and sharp, like the teeth of an animal, like stained pitchforks. He said, “It is nature’s way.”
Mathew pondered this. This was not the nature that he knew of. He wondered if he was being told a fib.
“
Surely,” he said, “there is nothing natural about you, whatever you are.”
“
But there is.” The old man replied, flaunting a terrible smile. “It is natures way, and I’m a part of nature. I am as natural as the air we breathe, the sky above, the water in the ocean and the serpents within it. In days gone by, I was considered a God. And as a God, an old God, I can tell you quite surely that there can be nothing good without something bad, happiness without sadness, heaven without hell. I would think that you understood these basic principles. This is not the deliberation of genius.”
“
Then you are from hell, yes?”
“
There is no hell.”
“
I don’t understand.”
The old man stood up and walked across the yard. Mathew followed. Soon they came to an ice-cream stand and the old man said, “Would you like an ice cream?”
“
Yes please.” Mathew replied. He was handed the cone and he licked it immediately. “This is delicious.”
“
Of course it is. It is a taste that you enjoy, more than all others.”
Strange, Mathew thought. He had never tasted it before.
They walked a little further. The park was near empty. And it was a beautiful day; the type of day that Mathew lived for.
Something occurred to him: He created this world, this environment that surrounded them. This was his heaven, his sanctuary. Nothing bad could happen to him here.
He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he did.
Testing this theory, Mathew wished for a green balloon. A balloon appeared; the string was comfortably wrapped around his free hand. But it wasn’t green, his favorite color. It was red. He tried his luck again. This time, he wished for a baseball hat. One appeared on his head, New Jersey Devils. It fit perfectly.
“
Third time’s a charm,” he said, and he wished that the Bakisi would be gone forever, erased from reality, non-existent.
“
I’m afraid your petty tricks won’t work on me, little one,” the old man said.
“
And why not?”
The old man grinned. “I have some terrible news for you. This is not your world; it is mine. I allowed you to think that you had captured me. But it was I that captured you. I brought you here, and I had you believe that you were the dominant one. You and I are connected now, here in this world of darkness. And in your own world, you are at the mercy of those around you. You will never wake––and I will not harm you. Not now. Not ever. We are connected. We are as one. You will see what I see. You will go where I go. You will know the things that I choose to teach you. And I will reap the rewards. I
know
what you know. And now, little one, I know where your uncle is hiding. You have shown me the way. We shall travel there together. It’s time to get going.”
The old man began laughing, with his long teeth clicking concurrently.
The world, that was a shining paradise for the child, began changing. The sky turned black, the ground turned to flame, the ice cream cone became a handful of scattering insects with mouths hungry and snapping.
Mathew screamed. The string that was attached to the red balloon tightened around his hand like a snake. He screamed again. And again.
He screamed for a very long time.
He screamed forever.
101
James opened his eyes; the room was spinning. He tried to lift a hand and couldn’t do it. He was tied to a chair.
Fading in and out of consciousness, the room blurred. Sounds that seemed muffled and strange seeped into his brain. An overtone of ringing and buzzing was heard. He looked through the broken patio door and noticed the rain. It seemed softer, less severe. The storm was dying; soon it would be over. Without looking around, James drew the conclusion that the room was empty. And perhaps the cottage was empty––accept, he could hear voices and laugher coming from one of the bedrooms. He could also hear Debra crying. As it turned out, the room wasn’t empty. Debra was beside him, tied to another chair.
“
Debra.” James whispered.
Debra’s lips were ripped apart on one side. She had scrapes on her knuckles, and one finger was missing. It had been crudely bandaged with a cloth. The cloth was bright red. Her eyes were puffy and she had large bruises down both sides of her face and neck.
James swallowed. It tasted like acid. His eyes watered; his heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t right. No matter what she had done, this was definitely not right.
“
Are you okay?”
No response.
After a long silence, James realized that Debra’s clothing had become dirty and wet. She looked like she had been dragged outside.
Debra mumbled, “You’re awake.” Her tattered lips quivered.
“
What’s happening?”
Debra’s head rolled to one side; a line of blood pooled on her chin. Struggling to speak, she said, “The guy you kidnapped is here, but be quiet. Don’t let them know you’re awake. If they find out, they’ll come. I don’t want them to come out here. Not again.”
With the lowest possible voice, almost like a high-pitched wisp, James said, “The guy I kidnapped? Who are you talking about?”
Debra coughed gently. “I don’t remember his name. Is it Alan?”
“
Do you mean Elmer?”
“
Yes, that’s him. Elmer. He has two friends with him; don’t you remember? They shot you; and smashed us with a baseball bat. Then they beat me up, and…”
Debra closed her eyes. She didn’t want to say it or admit it. She didn’t even want to think it. But she knew what they did. Oh yes. She knew.
First it was the big guy––the guy she hadn’t talked about yet; the guy with his chest covered in tattooed skulls, spiders and dragons; the guy with the nice clothing and foul breath. He was the violent one. From the very beginning, he was sadistic. He wanted to cause pain; he liked it rough. He forced her to say things, forced her to do things, terrible things, things she would never do again. And before he was finished––before he punched her and kicked her and tore her finger off with his teeth––he dropped his seed inside of her.
Then Elmer joined in.
Elmer wanted to abuse Debra, just like the big man. He wanted to drop his seed inside of her too, and show Debra what a real man was about, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep himself excited. He tried and failed, which made him embarrassed and angry. He turned violent and became an animal, a monster.
But monsters don’t exist, Debra told herself while it was happening.
But sometimes they do.
Sometimes they do.
Debra fought back the tears. She didn’t want to tell James that Elmer forced her to suck his cock until he was so angry––and embarrassed––that he spit in her face and pulled her bottom lip three inches from her mouth. No, she didn’t want to tell James that. She didn’t want to admit it either. But it happened. Oh yes, it all happened.
“
I don’t remember,” Debra said, pushing away the thoughts.
“
What is it?”
Debra swallowed, struggling to speak. “There’s another man, a third man. He’s big… and mean. He has tattoos on his chest.”
“
Elmer’s here?”
“
Yes, I’m trying to tell you…” Debra closed her eyes. “You remember the girl I brought to the hospital? Her name is Jennifer.”
“
Yeah.”
“
Elmer beat her up.”
“
When?”
“
Jennifer said she found Elmer on the highway and she stopped to help him. And then Elmer attacked her and took her car.”
“
How do you know this?”
“
Shhh. You’ve got to be quiet!”
“
I am being quiet. How do you know this?”
“
Inside the hospital we saw the news reports on TV. She saw his face on CNN. He was with you.”
A silence fell between them; James remembered dumping Elmer on the side of the road. He remembered treating him poorly and thinking that Elmer was a hard book to read. Looking back, he sure as shit had done some misreading. “How did he find us here?”
Debra whispered, “I don’t know.”
Dizzy. Lightheaded. It became hard for James to stay focused. Thoughts of Elmer drifted, replaced with nothing.
Then––
Leaning his head back, he thought about the two of them, James and Debra, peas in a pod. He thought about the fun times––lazy Saturday afternoons, lying in bed, naked and playful. Laughing, with smiles on their faces and contentment in their hearts. He thought about the nights they had spent, the good times and the bad. Jokes, boisterous laughter, drunken fights and bliss; the expression Debra made while sleeping, with her mouth open and the unseen hinge of her jaw wide. Like a soldier, Debra had once said, and he knew what she meant. Debra would lie under the covers like a soldier, not moving, not disrupting the perfectly tucked, ultra-clean sheets. And in the morning the sheets would be flawless on her side. In contrast, the sheets would be destroyed on his, like he had jumped on the bed for hours. He thought about all this and more––the day they met, birthdays and dinners and everything else that the relationship had been. She had made him a better person, a more complete person. She had seen his promising side, his confidence, his drive, and the diamond that was lying within his undeniable rough. She loved him, and he loved her. He loved her so much that it hurt.
“
Debra.” James whispered. “I’m really sorry. I never wanted things to happen this way. Please forgive me. I love you. Since the day that I met you, I’d loved you like no other. You’re my world.”
Debra began crying. She hated hearing James giving his last rites speech. It didn’t make things better. It made things worse, solidifying the reality of the situation.
“
Oh God.” She said, pulling air deep into her lungs “You kidnapped the wrong guy, James. Now it’s payback time. We’re in serious trouble here. I think they’re going to kill me. I really, really do.”
James didn’t know what to say. He knew she was hurting. Truth was, he was hurting too.
A thought came, clear and simple: If Elmer doesn’t kill you, I surely will. I fucking hate you.
And then he smiled and consciousness drifted away.