by Matthew Buza
"It has been years. But it's not like I’m not trying. I’ve been sending you messages. But it seems you just want to ignore them.”
"Well, you got at least one thing right.”
“What, you just burning them? Not even opening them?”
He could feel his heart beating in his throat. “Burning is too much work.”
She sat back and sighed. “You're just a jaded man. No hope here.”
“I lost hope years ago. Remember that was the last time you started trying.” He stood up from the table. “I’m not interested in catching up.”
She stood quickly, a gold chain falling out from inside her shirt. Isaac saw the eye and the pyramid emblem shimmering in the overhead lighting. The golden eye charm danced and slid down the chain. He remembered the words from Lazarus about the occult. He stared at her and his eyes narrowed. What was she involved in all the way out there?
She reached out and grabbed his elbow.
“Sit down, don't make a scene here.”
Isaac's towering frame leaned into her face. “Get your hand off me or I will. I'm sure you've convinced a few of these gullible people around here that you are on the mend, but I know better. You're a scam artist and a fraud and you need to crawl back into that street corner the last guy left you in.”
Her face could barely contain her shock as he walked to the doorway. His plate and fork hit the waste bin as she shrieked out behind him. “You ungrateful ass!”
Without turning around, he lifted his arm and gave her the finger as he hit the steps and exited out of the church. He could still hear the commotion behind him in the basement as he broke out into the sunny winter day. His feet crunched under the frozen grass and he stormed off towards the parking lot.
The door to the church burst open and his grandfather trotted up behind him.
“Well, that went well.” His joke landed flat.
“Words were left on that table,” Isaac answered.
“I am sure you left a ton. That was good of you. The flying bird was a nice touch.”
The corner smile vanished as soon as it appeared. “I just need to go for a walk.”
“Not a problem. I just want to check to see if you’re OK.”
Isaac stopped and turned to his grandfather, his eyelids shimmering in the sun. “Why?” He paused and his grandfather waited patiently. “Why of all the people in this world did she have to be mine?”
“I know it's hard son.”
A drop fell down his cheek. “I go away to school to get some space, find my own way, and I still can't get away from her.”
His grandfather nodded.
“Sometimes, I don't know what to do. I love you guys more than anything, but I can't stand that woman.”
“Nobody is forcing you to be around her.”
“Pops, I know Nan told her I was here. I can't keep having her show up in my life.”
“I will speak with your Nan. Why don't you walk home? Get some time alone and enjoy the sun. You Seattle people don't get much of that this season.”
Isaac turned and sniffed into his shirt. “I will. Tell Nan I will be home for dinner.”
His grandfather leaned in and gave him a hug. His voice was soothing and more tears flowed down Isaac's cheek. His grandfather squeezed tight and Isaac felt the world disappear for a brief moment. It felt like a wall had come down and for the first time in weeks, he felt purpose and love.
His grandfather sniffed and Isaac knew the emotions had taken him.
“We love you very much and we will always be here for you. Alright?”
Isaac nodded. “Thanks Pops. I know.”
Isaac turned and walked through the gravel parking lot past the rows of parked cars. Across the road was a large corn field still tall with unharvested stalks. The leaves and ears hung heavy, dried brown from the long hot summer. He could have walked the road, but he knew the field would be a shortcut home. He broke through the edge of the corn stalks and the dead leaves crinkled and broke off in his wake. He walked slowly dodging and weaving, but his wide shoulders left a path behind him towards the church. There would always be a path back, but what lay before him was something sinister. It tugged at every memory and emotion he had. Its tentacles were like smoke seeping into every vein and out every pore. He could feel its cold fingers gripping and dragging his soul down. He tried to ignore it and press on like a blind man lost in an unrecognizable world.
Monday Morning on the Farm
Isaac stirred quietly in his bed. The green-blue comforter curled between his legs and an army of pillows were tucked under his body and head. He blinked slowly as his eyes adjusted to the morning light. His room faced east and the early mornings, even in the winter, always shone brightly through the cedar blinds.
He remembered long weekends staring out of that window and watching the summer thunderstorm drop rain over the back fields. Hours would slip by with his head pressed against the glass and his mind lost in thought. Through the year the fields cycled between grass, alfalfa, and corn. He could still smell the diesel exhaust pouring out of the old Ford as it carved a grid array over the landscape. He smiled as he remembered those days watching the furrow plow dig into the spring soil, cracking and folding the earth and exposing the virgin soil to the air. With all that had transpired over the last two months, it felt like his youth was another world buried deep in his memory only to be forgotten over time.
He whispered into his pillow, “One-day man, we’ll get back to that.”
What that was is still a mystery, in the light of his new profession.
“Profession.” He shifted on the bed and laughed. “Whatever the hell Lazarus wants to call it. The Order.”
He sat up in bed, the steel supports squeaking under his weight. Downstairs he could hear Nan preparing breakfast. The smells of sausage and bacon found their way up through the vents and into his room. She always rose early to make food and the poorly designed house guaranteed he would never sleep past the bacon hitting the cast-iron skillet.
The blanket hung over his shoulder as he slid his legs out and onto the cold wood floor. He let loose a large yawn and turned his head to the main room. What he saw sent him reeling to the floor. His back struck the corner with a loud smack and he scrambled for the bat that rested behind his nightstand. His lips quivered with fear as short breaths struggled out of his mouth.
A creature sat calmly in the opposite corner of the room. It crouched menacingly and stared into Isaac’s eyes. Smoke poured out of every crevice and hole in its face. It cascaded down its body and over the wooden floor. It was unlike anything Isaac had ever seen. Blacker than black, as if it sucked in the light leaving only the silhouette outline along the wall.
Isaac felt a piercing sensation in the back of his skull. A warm fire smoldered and a ripping migraine grew up from his spine and erupted across his eyes, pressing hard against his skull. He lost control and collapsed to the ground. A dizzying pain pressed down over him and his grip went slack. The bat rolled across the floor and struck the foot of the bed. The scab on the back of his neck was red hot and itched as if a thousand tiny teeth were gnawing deep. He reached back and pulled against his skin. He felt a crawling sensation over his fingers and flung his hand out. White maggots dropped off his fingertips and curled up on the ground.
He panicked and brushed against his neck. A steady stream of wriggling white maggots fell to the ground beneath his feet. A small pile grew as if they were cascading like a waterfall of filth. Isaac stumbled back against the wall. His head hit the wood with a crack and he crumbled to the ground unconscious. His head was surrounded by white maggots scurrying towards the scent of rotting flesh. Each breath swept a new batch of maggots away from his face.
Footsteps rushed up the stairs as the door flew open. Isaac's grandparents burst into the room, quickly scanning and finding Isaac crumpled along the wall.
His grandfather turned to his wife. “Oh Jesus, go get the smelling salts out of the first-aid kit.”
“Yes, under the sink.”
He lifted Isaac up off the ground and held him in his lap. Nan rushed in and snapped the smelling salt. They waved it under Isaac’s nose and his eyes sprang open. Remembering the creature in the room he reached for the bat and pushed away his grandfather. Isaac leaped up and bounded over the bed. He scanned the empty corner and open closet. There was nothing. They were both empty.
“Isaac sit down boy, you were out cold,” his grandfather pleaded.
His Nan’s voice shook. “Isaac, sweetie, are you OK?”
Isaac looked at them both. “Did you see anything?”
“See what?” his grandfather said.
He shook his head trying to think of a way to describe what he saw. “Was there anything in this room when you came in?”
“No Isaac, just you in the corner.”
Isaac jumped the bed and knelt down next to his grandfather, scanning the corner for remnants of the maggots. He lifted the rug and pushed back the night stand, but there was nothing. Just dust and worn flooring.
“Look at my neck, is there anything there?” He turned to show his grandfather.
“No, I don’t see anything other than the small scab.”
“No, are there bugs there? Is there anything rotting?”
“Bugs? No, no bugs. It looks like it is healing. Is that what you saw?”
Isaac paused, looking at the fear in his grandparents’ eyes. “I…think…I think I must have had a spider or something on me and I tripped over the bat and hit the corner.”
His grandfather got up and dusted off his pants. “No, I didn't see anything.”
“Well… I, I think I saw something on me or…”
His grandfather touched his shoulder. “Isaac it’s alright. I want to make sure you’re OK.”
“Yeah, no, don’t worry about me. I just must have been spooked or something.”
“Well, you were out cold, so I want you to come downstairs and get some ice. Just rest today, OK?”
Isaac nodded, still staring at the corner where the creature had stood. “Yeah, I think I need it. Just rest, I got it.”
Nan said, “Sweetie, just come downstairs when you are feeling alright and I’ll have breakfast ready for you.”
“Thanks, Nan.”
The two left the room and climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Isaac’s eyes never left the corner. He still expected the creature to return. Ten minutes rolled by and his eyes grew tired. He must have been dreaming, or stuck in some dream state where he hallucinated. It seemed so vivid and real.
His Nan called from downstairs, “Sweetie, breakfast is ready!”
“I’ll be right there,” he responded
He sniffed the room and he could make out a faint burning smell. It grew as he approached the corner. His feet shuffled slowly and he balled his fists. The burning smell grew stronger as he stared into the closet. Except for the rusted wire hangers clumped in the corner, it had been empty for years. He felt something, just beyond his vision. There was something there but he couldn't see it.
He gave up and turned back.
“What the hell,” he whispered, rubbing his head with the palm of his hand.
Isaac gathered himself and left the room making his way down the stairs slowly. His head was tender and his balance was returning. He felt the back of his head and a small welt pressed against his scalp and ballooned a tuft of hair. He entered the kitchen and slowly sat down in one of the red aluminum chairs.
“I already made you a plate. I just wanted to make sure it was warm for you. How’s the head feeling?” She walked around and inspected his head as he slowly ate a piece of bacon. She felt the welt. “Oh my goodness, you really did a number on yourself.”
“I know, I can feel the skin tightening up there.”
Nan gathered a washcloth and placed a handful of ice and wrapped it tightly. “Here sweetie, take this ice and press hard.”
Isaac put the cold press against his scalp and he felt the pressure as the swollen skin extended to the limit. The cold ice radiated through his skull, numbing the nerve endings.
“What are you going to do today?” Nan asked.
“Well, Grandpa asked if I wouldn’t mind helping him paint a few doors.”
“I want you to rest first, no hard work this morning.”
“Well, he’s bribing me with beer, so there’s no way I can turn that down.”
“Not too much, please. We can’t afford to have you stumbling around here. You’ve already set your brain back a few years today.”
Isaac smiled. “That’s assuming there’s anything left to go back to.”
“Just be careful.”
The kitchen fell into silence as Isaac’s Nan slowly washed the dishes. Her hands meticulously moved over the ceramic plates and cast-iron pans. She pressed down hard and scrubbed. She slowed and her head dropped. “I’m sorry about yesterday at church.”
Isaac kept chewing his bacon. “Don’t worry about it.”
She lifted her head and stared out the window. “I’ve tried to give her chances, but it always bites us. I think I pray one day that she will come home and tell me she’s a nurse and has been living a clean life for the last five years. There’s just something we can’t give up on. She’s our daughter so I feel it's our duty.”
“I should’ve kept my cool.”
She turned to him, tears built in her eyes. “No, if you don’t want a relationship you don’t have to have one. No one will fault you for that. I certainly won’t. I just have to remember my guilt is not yours, so I need to respect that. I’m sorry for that sweetie. I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“Let’s not let it get us down, alright? I’m just happy I’m home with you guys.”
“As long as you are not upset at me anymore.”
Isaac stood up and hugged his Nan. “If you keep putting that much bacon on my plate, I can’t be upset with you.”
She sniffed and looked up to his face. “Is it good?”
“Is there more?”
She smiled and hugged him back, burying her face in his chest. The two stood quietly in the kitchen as the morning began to fade into the afternoon.
Down the hall towards the front door, the smoky creature stood in the entryway carefully watching the two in the kitchen. Smoke poured out of the creature’s face and fell down creating a black lake in the entryway. Isaac’s grandfather walked into the entryway holding two cans of paint and a set of brushes. His feet parted the knee-deep smoky mist. He stopped inches away from the creature’s face and watched the two in the kitchen continue to hug. He smiled and continued on, passing through the creature as wisps of smoke trailed in his wake.
Bus Home
The bus rumbled down the highway and rounded a sharp bend towards a long hill. The engine pressed hard against the rear wheels as a cloud of diesel smoke billowed out the tailpipe. The headlights provided just enough light to see the lane markers whip by in a yellow blur. The black hills silhouetted the landscape of rural Oregon. Just past the flowing steel barrier was an endless black blanket covering the ground. Above, the sky was a canvas of white dots that etched across the moonless sky.
The driver played the wheel back and forth as the commotion settled down behind him. His eyes glanced to the mirror as the passengers settled into their new seats. Their heads turned to the back of the bus and shouted at the young man in the back. The driver grabbed the microphone as his eyes narrowed. There was a crack over the speakers and he yelled a series of muffled commands. Outside the bus, the garbled voice cracked and fell out across the empty landscape. The overhead lights dimmed again as the tension relaxed and the passengers exchanged local conversations about the madman in the rear.
Isaac pressed himself up against the window, his legs pushing and sliding over the slick floor leaving behind bold streaks of black. His head vibrated and vision blurred from the engine’s strain as the bus climbed the hill. He fell asleep o
nce the bus pulled out of Bend. He woke to the touch of a hand on his foot to see the smoky creature sitting across the aisle. The black haze poured out and covered the rows around him. What he thought was a face was focused on him, staring across the aisle with a penetrating gaze.
His shock caused the initial commotion but his manic and garbled pleas to the neighboring travelers had caused the stampede towards the front of the bus. None of the fleeing passengers noticed the new visitor that enveloped the back rows of the bus.
Isaac knew there was nowhere to go, and lashed out in a panicked voice, “What the fuck are you?”
There was no answer as the monolith stared back.
“What you’re not going answer? You’re just going to sit there.” Isaac looked down the bus to see a few heads turn to watch him speak to the empty seat. He knew if he continued they might kick him off the bus. He didn't want to be stuck on the side of the road with this thing.
He settled back. “Nothing, huh?”
Not Yet. The words seemed to flash across his face as if his mind played a movie in his head.
“What do you mean, not yet?”
The creature nodded his head.
“How long have you been following me? How long have you been here?”
You, weeks. Me? Hundreds of years.
Isaac could feel a warmth on the back of his neck. He touched his scab. “You’re here because of this?”
I’m here for someone else.
“Someone else? Who?”
Silence.
“You were what followed her? Right? You were in the cell…”
Yes.
“And she passed you on, to me?”
She did little of what she wanted and more of what I told her.
Isaac was breathing heavily. “I’m a necromancer’s apprentice. I have ways to deal with you.” The words were a lie and they sounded odd to Isaac, but he felt he had no choice.
I know that. Why do you think I’m here?
The creature’s response terrified him more than anything. Was he part of some demonic plan or was he the end game?