by Brom
Danny didn’t look up.
The Captain pulled up a chair next to the boy. “Daniel, you must not torture yourself over this. You need to understand right now…you had no choice. No one understands this better than me. We’re very similar, you and I. We’re both trapped by circumstance and we’ve both been forced to do things that we don’t want to do. Things we’d never have done otherwise.”
The Captain lowered his voice. “Daniel, we need each other to get out of here. I need to be able to confide in you, to be able to trust you.”
Danny raised his head and looked at the Captain, confused but curious.
“There’s information I’d like to share with you. Information I couldn’t mention in front of the Reverend. Can I trust you, Daniel?”
A trace of hope crossed Danny’s face; he nodded cautiously.
“There’s insanity all around us. It’s like this place breeds it, both with the Reverend and with the Lady. You’re a smart boy, I know you see it. You hear what’s going on out there. It’s madness, but it’s out of your control—out of my control. Nothing either of us can do to change it. All we can do at this point is try to survive it.”
The Captain sighed. “The others are in the hands of the Reverends now, in the hands of fanatics. There’s no hope for them. I wish it were otherwise, but you were there. I gave them their chance and they made their choice. You cannot blame yourself for that.
“All I want is to get off this island. We both know that this Lady holds the key. If we can put a stop to her sorcery, the mist will go away and we can finally escape this hell.
“I spoke earlier of my sons; the oldest, he was around your age when I left. I cannot help but think of him when I look upon you. It’s beyond me to do anything but try and help you. Daniel, if you can help me, I promise that together we will get off this island.” The Captain laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “Will you help me find the Lady?”
Danny nodded his agreement, then thrust himself against the Captain, wrapped his arms tightly about his waist, pressed his face against his chest, and began to sob.
It had been decades since the Captain had been embraced by anyone; to now have this young boy cling to him exactly as his own sons had once done overwhelmed him with heartsickness. The Reverend will not have this child, he thought. No, I’ll kill every one of them first.
NICK SAT IN the cage with Leroy and Redbone, next to a small, dark pond. The cage was more of a basket, woven together from large strips of bark, bamboo, and twine. The basket was suspended a few feet off the ground from a long pole with a ballast attached to the far end. The villagers still had not bothered to give them water, but they had unbound the boys’ hands. Nick rubbed his raw wrist and pressed his face against the weave. He could see past the crowd into the square where Peter hung listlessly from the cross. They’d branded him until he’d stopped moving, which meant he was either unconscious or dead. Nick was unsure which to hope for.
The crowd had migrated over to the pond, their faces tight, tense, many looked hungry for more suffering, but others seemed troubled. Nick took in a deep, quivery breath, well aware that he was the show now. He realized his whole body was shivering, but not from any chill.
A weak moan escaped Redbone. Nick leaned over to him and said, “Hang in there, man.”
One of Redbone’s eyes flitted open. He managed a weak smile, a shadow of his former ferocious grin. Then his eyes fell shut. Nick would’ve thought him dead except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.
“What’re they gonna do?” Leroy asked, his voice high and strained. It seemed less a question and more just words coming from a scared boy. Nick wanted to pretend he didn’t know, but he did. The Reverend had said they would drown them. From there, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. He tried not to think what it would be like to be trapped in this basket beneath the dark water of that scummy pond. Did it hurt to drown?
The Reverend Senior walked over to the basket. He held a tattered Bible in one hand and his staff in the other. He faced the crowd. “Let us pray,” he pronounced, and the crowd fell silent. “Lord, we are grateful for the faith you have placed in our hands. Give us strength that we may do your bidding. And bless these children and make them strong for the trials ahead. Amen.”
“Amen,” the crowd murmured.
The Reverend laid the Bible on the cage and closed his good eye. The crowd fell silent. “Demon,” the Reverend called in a low, stern voice. “Hear me for I call you out in the name of the Lord Almighty. Leave these children. Return to the pits of Hell from whence you came.” Slowly, he raised his head, his eye opened, and he glared at the boys. “DEMON!” he shrieked, his voice filled with wrath. “LEAVE THESE CHILDREN!” Spittle flew from his lips. “I demand it in the name of the Heavenly Father!” To Nick, it seemed that the Reverend was the one possessed. The Reverend slapped the side of the cage with his staff and locked his wide, fanatical eye on Nick. “I see you, demon! I see you very well. Leave now, or face the pain of drowning!”
The Reverend leaned in close. “Boys,” he whispered, his voice suddenly gentle, kind. “If you can hear me call on the Lord to give you strength. Let Him hear your voice.” The Reverend looked deep into Nick’s eyes, searching. Nick saw a different person then, a soul overcome with compassion and pity. Why, the man was near tears. The Reverend reached through the bars, grasped Nick by the shoulder. “Please boy, please hear me.” And at that moment Nick saw that this man truly believed he was helping them, and somehow knowing this made the situation even more horrifying. “Children,” the Reverend called. “For the love of God, find the strength, break free. Defeat these demons. Lift up your voices. Let Him hear you!”
This was followed by many in the crowd, shouts of “Let Him hear you!” and “Call to the Lord!”
The Reverend stepped away, watching, waiting.
Lift up my voice? Nick thought. And say what? What was he supposed to say? Nick tried to find some words, but all that came out was, “God help me.”
The Reverend slowly shook his head, then nodded toward the two men at the ballast and they swung the cage out over the pond. Leroy let out a weak cry. Many among the crowd jockeyed for the best spots along the bank, their faces eager, like a crowd’s before a prize fight. Nick stared into the dark water.
“Children,” the Reverend called. “Raise your voices to God!”
“OH GOD!” Leroy screamed. “Jesus, God, Lord, help us for Christ’s sake! Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, help us!” Nick didn’t think that was what they were looking for, but he joined in just the same. “Jesus, please help us.”
Then a strange laugh cut the air, causing all of them to fall silent. It was Redbone, his laugh hearty and piercing.
The Reverend’s good eye squinted down to a mere slit. The crowd took a step back.
“TELL YOUR ANGELS TO GO FUCK THEMSELVES!” Redbone cried, then laughed again, and for a brief moment, it was the old Redbone, his wild, crazy grin in place. “You can all go fuck yourselves,” he yowled, followed again by that mad laugh, then he choked, and coughed. Nick saw several specks of blood spray from his mouth and land on his chest.
The Reverend’s face clouded; he pursed his lips as he waved to the men beside the ballast. The cage began to drop.
Nick searched the crowd, found hate and fear, faces eager to see him drown, but he also found many that appeared mortified, their faces full of pain and sorrow—pity. Many who held their hands clasped tightly together in prayer. These Nick reached out to. “Stop,” he begged them. “Please make them stop.” But none stepped forward, their eyes fell away from his, down to their feet or to the heavens above.
The water was warm, slimy, and smelled like a clogged sink drain. It was to his waist, then his chest, then his neck. Redbone’s head sank below the surface. Nick saw the boy’s eyes flash open, scared and confused. Nick splashed over and lifted him in his arms, trying to get Redbone’s head above the water, but it was too late—for all of them. Nick took in a deep
lungful of air. He heard Leroy scream, “Oh God!”—then they sank below the water.
Stay calm, Nick thought; he knew there was no way out of the cage. If he could remain absolutely still and calm, he might survive. But a darker thought came to him: survive for what? Wouldn’t it be better to drown now than to have to go through the torments ahead? What had the Reverend said: breaking bones, branding, burning? He felt Redbone’s body convulse once, then go limp. Nick thought the boy must have finally died, actually hoped so, hoped Redbone at least was free from this nightmare.
As the pressure mounted in Nick’s lungs, he watched the surface light filtered down through the murky green water, a world of air so close but impossible to reach. The pain increased and soon began to overwhelm him. He’d heard stories that drowning was almost peaceful. If that were so, then why was he in such agony? Why did his chest feel like it was about to burst? His pulse thundered in his ears. White spots began to bloom then explode across his vision until a bright spectral light filled his head. The last of the air escaped his lungs in a convulsive burst of bubbles. He tried to inhale, but when the water entered his mouth, his throat closed up, choking him, gagging him, causing him to swallow several mouthfuls of the stringy brackish water. He grasped the bamboo cage, squeezing so hard he felt the strips cutting into his hand. Then his head broke the surface, and he was trying to suck in air. He got one lungful, then the contents of his stomach came pouring out of his mouth and nose in a painful, convulsive wretch. He fought to suck in air between heaves, only to choke and gag. He heard a distant, watery wail, like a baby’s first cry, and realized it was him. Finally, he began to breathe again, huge lungfuls of air—sweet, sweet air.
Nick wiped the slimy water from his eyes and found Redbone lying in the bottom of the basket, his eyes open, his face pale and peaceful. The wild boy was dead. Nick turned away and spat to clear his mouth of the taste of his own bile. He heard someone else gagging and saw Leroy clinging to the side of the cage, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to suck in breath. And despite all that he’d gone through, Nick found he still had room to wish Leroy had drowned.
“Lord, deliver them from their demons,” the Reverend called. “Speak, children. Call out His name. Now is the time to disavow your demons.” And on and on the Reverend went. Demons, and angels, and God, and the Holy who-gives-a-fuck, Nick thought. Nick now understood what Redbone must have realized: that they were screwed, that the only demons were these men in their long, black capes, that there was nothing they could say or do that was going to keep these twisted, sadistic men from torturing them to death.
Someone grasped Nick’s hand. It startled him. Leroy had moved over and was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
“N-n-nick,” Leroy stuttered. “Dude, I…gotta tell you something.”
Nick yanked his hand away.
“Hey Nick…please don’t be like that,” Leroy begged, his voice rising and breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a fuck. But I need you to listen…please. It’s about my dad. Something that happened. I gotta tell someone. Nick, please you got to listen.”
No I don’t, Nick thought, because he had no intention of spending what might be his last moments alive hearing anything Leroy had to say. He turned away.
“Nick,” Leroy sobbed. “Don’t do this. Okay, okay, I lied. I lied about everything. There, now will you listen to me? Please?”
Nick said nothing.
“I know I’m always fucking up. Just like back home. Just like with my dad.” Leroy was quiet a moment. “But that business with Sekeu though…that was different. Everything’s just so weird here. Y’know?” Then low, barely a whisper. “It…that thing, was in my head. I was just so scared. So fucking scared.”
And Leroy didn’t have to say any more than that. Nick knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Those eyes, they burned into me. It made me do it. Made me. You saw it, right Nick? You were there, in the woods. I know you saw it.” The terror still showed on Leroy’s face. “Felt its eyes, those burning eyes.”
And Nick knew then, without a doubt, that the horned monster had been in Leroy’s head, just like it had been in his.
“Look,” Leroy said. “I need to tell you something. Gotta tell someone. Please, man. Please just listen to me.” Tears were running freely down his face. “Something I did, something bad. It’s about my dad.”
God, Nick thought, he won’t quit.
“Remember when everyone was talking about why they’d run away?” Leroy went on. “Because their parents or stepparents treated them crappy. They ran off ’cause they didn’t have anyone that loved them. Anyone who’d look out for ’em. And how I agreed with them and all. Well that wasn’t the case. My parents, they loved me. They loved me more than anything. Did their damndest to keep me out of trouble. But I kept fucking up, lying to them, stealing from them, arguing, fighting. And every time, no matterwhat, my folks tried to work things out, tried to fix things, to give me one more chance.” Leroy was bawling now. “One day, I just went crazy and…you know what I did?” Leroy couldn’t seem to get the words out. “I killed him. My own dad. I killed my dad.”
Nick stared at him, horrified. This was just too much.
Leroy grabbed Nick’s hand. Nick tried to pull free, but this time Leroy held tight. “You want to know why? You want to know why I killed my own dad?”
Nick didn’t. Nick didn’t want to hear another word. He could still hear the Reverend ranting on, and on, and on about God and Satan, could see the crowd glaring at him and Leroy like they’d personally nailed Jesus to the cross. Nick had had enough of this nightmare. He just wanted this whole mess over with and done.
“Over a beer. I stabbed my own dad over a beer. A dumb-ass beer. I tried to take it out of the house and he wouldn’t let me. I don’t even like beer. Just wanted to impress some stupid dudes on my street. Can you believe it? We got in a fight and I stabbed him, shoved a kitchen knife into his chest. I didn’t mean to. I swear to God I didn’t. I don’t even remember how it happened. But it did. He’s on the floor then, blood everywhere. Is he cussing me, does he look like he wants to kill me? No, he’s just shaking his head slowly back and forth and looking at me with the saddest eyes you ever saw. He was sad for me, Nick, not him. Him, lying there dying and all he’s thinking about is me! God!” Leroy made a sound like someone had just stabbed him. “I can’t get his eyes out of my head.” Leroy let go of Nick’s hand, rolled into a ball, hugging his own legs, and began to sob uncontrollably.
Nick turned away. Tried to go away, to withdraw within himself, and when he did, it was his mother’s face, her smile he saw, her voice he heard.
The basket began to sink back into the water. Nick clutched the bamboo, clenched his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and pressed his forehead against the weave. “Mom,” he whispered as he sank beneath the water. “I’m so sorry I left you. Please forgive me, Mom. Please.” And the dark waters swallowed him.
NICK CAME OUT of the darkness. It was not like waking, more like coming back from nothing. He heard muffled voices. He blinked; blurry, dark shapes leaned over him. Where am I? he wondered. He was cold and wet. His chest hurt. His stomach felt bloated, his throat burned—he retched violently and someone rolled him over on his side. He pulled his knees up to his chest and retched again; what felt like bucketfuls of salty water erupted from his throat. He felt like he was heaving out his very guts. He kept retching until nothing would come up but thin strings of bile.
“Come forth, my child,” came a man’s voice. And when he heard that voice, everything came back to Nick. He let out a long moan. So he’d not died. He’d tried. This time, when the black waters came he’d welcomed them. But it had been for nothing, for he was still here.
Nick wiped the water from his eyes and saw he was on the bank of the pond, with Leroy sitting next to him. Leroy’s eyes were red and his face deathly pale. Redbone’s body was laid out on the ground before them, his hands folded across his che
st. Two women were wrapping him in a dingy sack cloth.
“Show yourself,” the Reverend Senior demanded. He glared into Nick’s eyes as though trying to see into his soul. He turned to the crowd and waved a thin wisp of a woman forward. “Eva.”
The woman approached Nick and Leroy cautiously, the way you would approach a pair of poisonous snakes. Nick recognized her instantly as the woman who had spat on Peter. She wore the same long, chaste dress of all the women, but her hair was wild and unkempt, hanging down across her face in long, greasy strands. She leaned over Nick and he got a closer look at the dozens of crosses hanging from her neck. He could see they were made of bones—they looked human in shape, only tiny, and Nick realized they must be from the small people, the pixies and faeries and such.
“Eva,” the Reverend said. “Are they free? Are the demons gone from these children?”
Eva thrust out an open palm, letting it hover just in front of Nick and Leroy. She pressed her other hand against her cheek, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she started to moan. Her hand began to tremble, her tongue fluttered in and out of her mouth, and a clucking came from her lips.
The crowd fell silent, watching her every move.
Suddenly she clutched her throat. Her eyes went wide as though someone was strangling her. She managed a few faltering steps backward before collapsing.
Nick stared on in disbelief.
Two women rushed forward and lifted Eva to a sitting position. Eva stuck a long, ragged finger out at Nick and Leroy and spoke in a harsh rasp, “The demons burn me! They burn me throat!”
As though on cue, the two women supporting Eva both clutched their throats, wailed, and fell to their knees. An anxious murmur flowed through the crowd as other women glanced uneasily at each other, then another woman fell to her knees, also clutching her throat, then another, and another. Soon most of the women that Nick could see were clutching their own throats and moaning as though in great pain.