First Kiss, Last Breath

by Lee Mather

  Andy nodded. “It was brave, telling him.”

  “I was angry,” Nor said. She looked around the hallway, as if aware of his home for the first time. “This is brave. You coming back here so soon. I came to check you were okay. How’s it gone today?”

  Andy grew an inch or two in stature. “Good. I’ve made a call to Grandpa’s solicitor and I’ve arranged a funeral director too.” He pointed to the grimy bucket on the floor and grinned. “I’m cleaning... This is it, a fresh start.”

  Nor smiled and stroked his arm. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Tears formed in Andy’s eyes. In a short space of time, Nor had become everything to him.

  The moment Andy thought this something changed, like a switch flicked inside his head. The stab of fear in his chest was brutal. The darkness on the wall appeared to respond. The blackness began to throb. It sparkled at the edge of his vision.

  Andy tried to remove the importance of Nor from his thoughts but it was too late. Something had shifted in the atmosphere within the hall, within him.

  Nor stared at the creeping stains. She pointed at them and Andy’s gut fell away.

  “What’s that?”

  Andy followed her finger numbly.

  “The wallpaper looks wet. Have you cleaned something off the wall?”

  Nor stepped toward the wall, her expression puzzled. She reached out, fingertips inches from the darkness she couldn’t see. Andy felt the evil growing, the malevolence gaining momentum. He threw himself in her path and she pulled away in surprise.

  “Don’t touch it!” he shouted.

  “Why?” Nor stammered.

  Andy had no response. There was no sane excuse for his behavior.

  “I’ve just washed it,” he said after an age.

  Nor stared at him skeptically.

  “Sorry. I’ve been trying to scrub the place clean.” He pointed at the bucket of water.

  “Oh.” Nor took a step away from the wall. “This all must be a nightmare for you.”

  “It’s been hell.”

  Nor rubbed his arm gently, looked toward the sitting room. “Is that where...”

  “Yes,” Andy said distantly. He moved Nor away from the wall. He could feel the evil. He sensed something bad was about to happen. He needed to get Nor out of there, and fast.

  “Listen, we should probably go for a walk and get some fresh air. I need a break.”

  “Okay,” Nor said.

  Behind her, Andy choked as the stain bulged outward. The streaks of black peeled away from the wall to form snaking tentacles. They quivered and squirmed then stretched toward Nor.

  “Andy, are you okay?”

  Andy couldn’t answer. He was frozen as the tentacles closed in, to grab Nor, to drag her screaming into the darkness. They whipped and reared just inches from the back of her head. Behind her the stain in the wall became a face. A familiar demon looked out into the house.

  Andy broke free of his paralysis and grabbed Nor by the hand, pulling her toward the door. He picked up her denim bag, shocked by the strength he summoned to feign calm. He pushed her outside and stared back at the house.

  The wall was still, the stain nothing but a black smear once again.

  Nor regarded him suspiciously. “Andy is something wrong?”

  He stared at the stain a moment longer then shook his head. “No. I just need to get out for a while. Come on, let’s go and buy the concert tickets.” Andy hesitated and stared at her in earnest. “Nor, I’m not as brave as you think I am.”

  Nor smiled at him. “You made it this far. Have a little faith in yourself. You don’t know what you’re capable of.”

  Andy closed the door to his home and bowed his head. She was right. He didn’t know what he was capable of.

  That was the problem.

  Chapter 17

  Andy was terrified but Nor hadn’t noticed. She smiled as she clung to his hand. Overhead the skies were gray and brooding. This was Manchester weather, rain never far away.

  The queue ahead was stationary and it stretched for what seemed like miles. There were thousands of people outside Maine Road, expectant, eager and generally in good spirits. Despite this, Andy couldn’t relax. It would be at least half an hour until the turnstiles opened and he didn’t feel safe in this crowd. A few weeks ago it would have been impossible for him to be here at the concert, but Nor was by his side now, and with her present he felt as if nothing was beyond him. Still, the pressure grew inside him and, at that moment, he would have happily bolted.

  “This is going to be wicked.” Nor nodded at the stadium.

  Nor’s friends, Helen and Carrie, were chatting to one another. They had both catastrophically turned up wearing identical navy t-shirts with Oasis emblazoned on the chest and, as a result, Nor had to spend twenty minutes convincing Helen not to go home and change. They had settled on wearing the t-shirts differently. Helen had tied hers in a knot around her waist to reveal a portion of her midriff, and Carrie had rolled up her sleeves to the shoulders so the lengths of her arms were exposed. The girls were still muttering about how best to each wear the necklaces they had chosen as another point of difference. Andy wasn’t listening. Sickness spoiled his belly. His head ached, and the more he considered the volume of people here the worse it became. There was danger everywhere. The concert wasn’t as he had expected. There was no air here, and threats could appear from every angle. The police presence didn’t help. The roads leading to the stadium were blocked with lines and lines of them. There was talk among the concert goers of fighting between the authorities and the protesters heading for the Eid festival. Hundreds were already gathering in the main streets of Moss Side to march on Manchester as a statement to the local council, and the whisper passing through the crowd was that tensions were already escalating.

  Andy studied the line of fluorescent jackets and it didn’t help his unease. The police expected trouble. He glanced around self-consciously. He didn’t want his anxiety to seep out, for his companions, namely Nor, to suspect the level of his anxiety. Thankfully the girls seemed happily distracted. Nonetheless, Andy felt nauseous. He needed some water. He took some from Nor’s rucksack without asking and gulped it down, his hands shaking. The surrounding people closed in on him but this wasn’t the worst thing. There was something else.

  He could feel Glib.

  The demon was here, somewhere. Andy knew it. The hair on his arms stood on end and his skin prickled as if a thunderstorm was about to explode overhead.

  Last night Andy had again stayed at Rob’s, unable to face his home after what had happened when Nor visited. She had stayed at Rob’s too, and again Anita insisted on separate rooms. Andy hadn’t slept a wink, every creak and shiver piercing him like a knife to the gut. He was under no illusions. Glib was coming for her.

  Some people are meant to be alone.

  Andy drifted, and the sounds of the milling crowd merged into a strange jumble. The noise swirled inside his skull, and it took shape and became a maelstrom of cries. As Andy lurched back to reality he heard a terrible whisper at the edges of his perception. “Nor.” He shuddered, stopped himself from crying out. The voice in his head didn’t belong to him. He studied Nor. She was unaware, talking happily to her friends, the two Oasis clones. She looked so happy and free, wearing a faded Rebel, Rebel, t-shirt–David Bowie was apparently next on Andy’s “music as rehabilitation” syllabus. The fear he felt was unparalleled. The demon grew in strength, he sensed it. And, if Glib came for her, what chance would she have?

  Andy couldn’t take his eyes off her–was afraid to.

  What would she say if I told her about Glib? “Just the depersonalization”, or something along those lines. Maybe she’d even be right.

  Despite the massive crowd he’d never felt so alone. Small specks of rain wet his skin as he considered the danger in which he had placed Nor. He wished he had the courage to walk away. If he left her then Glib might leave her too. The problem was the demon knew her importance now.


  Nor caught Andy’s stare and her grin ripped a hole in him. He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t manage it. Something black moved at the edge of his vision and he twisted to catch it. There was nothing, just a whole bunch of people, thousands of them. There was no demon. Nonetheless, Andy’s heart quickened. It was sickening. Glib was his shadow, always following him. If he turned quickly enough he might catch the demon stalking him.

  “You all right?”

  Andy blinked, looked at Nor and nodded.

  Nor eyed him suspiciously. “You sure?” She leaned away from her friends so they couldn’t hear her. “You’ve seemed weirder than usual these last couple of days.”

  Andy stiffened and Nor blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out as badly as it sounded. I... I just don’t want you to be unhappy, that’s all.”

  “I guess the crowd is spooking me a little,” Andy said. The words weren’t lies, but they felt hollow.

  Nor stared at him earnestly. “It will be fine. Trust me.”

  Andy wished he could. Of all the people in the world, if he were to trust anyone, it would be her. But she couldn’t know about Glib.

  A large cheer went up from the front of the queue and stopped their conversation dead. News that the turnstiles were open filtered excitedly back to where the four of them waited. They started to move eventually, shuffling slowly for what seemed like hours until they were through the gates and into the stadium. A row of steep concrete steps greeted them. The sky was even darker than before.

  They took the steps two at a time. Andy looked around for Glib, unable to shake the sense that the demon was nearby, stalking him. They entered the Kippax Stand and the first thing they did was buy beers. Andy sipped his slowly. It was cold and welcome in his throat. He savored the taste as they made their way out onto the pitch where the grass was covered by rows and rows of protective plastic mats. People were dotted everywhere, and the crowd wasn’t as dense. He felt somewhat lighter as he downed a third of his pint and he enjoyed the sudden freedom the space around him brought. It had been a while since he’d drunk beer and the first swallows were heavenly until he remembered how he’d sometimes shared a beer with Grandpa when they’d watched television together, usually old black-and-white films, with cowboys and swashbucklers, films where the hero got the girl. The memory brought a pang of sadness to him and he lost his thirst for the drink in his hand.

  Nor reached for Andy’s arm and linked it in hers. She followed her friends as they moved to a position about halfway from the stage. Andy didn’t complain but he noticed how the stadium was filling quickly. The atmosphere was better inside, friendlier, but it didn’t ease his fear that the place would be full soon, overflowing with bodies, crammed next to each other. It would be so difficult to move, to run, if need be. The acid in his stomach spat and he shivered despite the heat inside him.

  “Mind my beer, will you?” Nor said, nudging him before passing over her watered down draft.

  Andy took it wordlessly and placed it by his feet with his own. Nor fished in her bag and pulled out mascara.

  “You never know, Liam Gallagher might look this way,” Nor said, applying the make-up with a grin.

  Andy tried to relax and wished for once in his life he could be normal enough to enjoy the day. He forced a smile. “What about me?” he said, managing to suppress his anxiety.

  “I’ll look after you,” Helen said, winking at Nor. “Unless Liam looks at me too and then you’re on your own.”

  The two girls looked at Carrie.

  “Me too,” she grinned with a shrug.

  “Sorry Andy. You might want to start a band, or maybe sell a few of your paintings,” Nor teased.

  Andy the painter again. The notion irritated him. He handed Nor the beer back and took a hurried sip of his own. He was trying desperately to keep his turmoil, his madness, inside his skin. He finished his drink in two hefty swigs. Nor accepted a cigarette from Helen and took a long drag. Helen offered him one and he shook his head. Carrie made a quip about him being a goody two shoes. Andy resisted the urge to educate her about the reality of lung cancer. He held his tongue and tried to calm the anger. He glanced around. People were everywhere. There were bodies just centimeters from Andy, so close. Too close. His heart thumped and he could hear nothing else.

  A surge of movement at the front of the crowd was followed by a mumbled announcement on the PA. People jostled and pushed past. The bodies squeezed closer. Andy, sweating, fought back a shudder of revulsion.

  A group of disheveled men walked on stage to massive cheers. They took their positions behind an assortment of musical instruments. The crowd cheered and excitement rippled. The air itself throbbed with electricity. Andy sucked in breath, distracted himself by thinking of how he would paint this place. All he could see was a mound of squirming beetles. He concentrated as if he had a brush in his hand, stared at the scaffolding towers and the lights on the stage and noted the speakers, amps, drumkit, microphones and the trailing cables. The tension vanished all at once. He gasped and made sense of the band.

  Andy leaned closer to Nor. “Is this–”

  Nor flashed him a warning glance. “It’s Ocean Colour Scene,” she said quickly before he could embarrass himself in front of Helen and Carrie.

  The drummer started a beat. Cheers erupted.

  The crowd became a bobbing wave. The drumming pulsed and the audience moved in time with it. Their cries became louder. A guitar thumped into life and the beat quickened. Andy felt growing intensity, urgency within the music creeping beneath his skin. He jumped softly on his toes as did those around him. The guitar took shape, became a song. People sang along, thousands of shared voices. Andy’s bones tingled and danced within his flesh. He gripped Nor’s hand tightly. They belonged to a tribe. This was an African plain, a wedding ceremony. He would paint flames towering high into the night. The villagers would chant and bash their spears into the dusty earth. They would sing together.

  The band ripped into a higher gear and the crowd rocked, one hundred thousand people, to this unified heartbeat. They were as one. Glib was forgotten. The darkness didn’t matter. Andy saw only Nor, illuminated under the blinking lights of hundreds of flashing cameras. She was oblivious to his attention, laughing, dancing, living. The concert, the music, was inconsequential. He felt detached then, understood a strange perspective. Despite everything he was blessed, blessed because he was there with Nor and the memory of this night would be forever theirs.

  Andy dissolved into the music. Hours passed like minutes. He gave himself completely. He was drenched in sweat, hoarse and happily drunk. Ocean Colour Scene had passed, as had the Manic Street Preachers. Oasis came out to a thick expectancy. A roar sounded and the reverence for false gods became tangible, the night air swollen and ripe with excitement.

  Darkness had crept up unnoticed. The first guitars from the homecoming band tore open the Manchester skies and rain began to drive down on the cheering crowd. Andy, grateful, leaned greedily into each drop. He let it cleanse and refresh and revitalize him where he’d sung and danced himself a marathon. Nor, his tribeswoman, celebrated with him under the falling rain. She was soon in his arms, pressed hard against his saturated chest. It took one look, one shared moment, and they moved together, closed in, kissed, softly at first then with urgency. The rain, the crowd and the music were all replaced by Andy’s thundering heartbeat. He drank in the moment as they embraced. Nor smelled like the fresh rain, and the beer and cigarette she’d sneaked in. She was glorious.

  Lightning flared violently in the sky and they separated on the sound of crashing thunder. Oasis thrashed on, defiant of the weather. Supersonic soared out above the crowd.

  Andy stared at Nor and she stared back at him, their smiles the only thing that mattered in the stadium.

  Until Andy looked beyond her and saw the demon.

  Chapter 18

  Glib roared, silhouetted by flashing cameras and the towering spotlights surrounding the stage
. The demon towered, hunched like a gargoyle behind the shoulder of some unsuspecting fan, a woman, pretty-ish, with a blue streak in her jet-black hair. Glib was much taller now, maybe seven feet, with two curling horns twisting lethally above its large blue head. The woman pushed a man aggressively. There was shoving, shouting. The faces of those around Glib changed. The demon walked forward, unseen and unnoticed, and as it moved, the ripple of animosity spread to more people. The jostling became a dozen brawls and the fluorescent jackets of the stewards cut a swath through the crowd to intervene. Andy understood Glib was to blame. The demon’s malign influence was a contagion now, an unseen poison capable of corrupting those around it.

  Glib stared at Andy but then the demon made a point of shifting its gaze to a new target. Andy’s heart sank as he realized Glib’s intention. The demon threw back its head and screamed in malice, a sound lost beneath the blaring guitars. It started forward, pushing bodies out of the way to clear a path. Every touch worsened the spread of rage amongst the crowd. It was becoming an epidemic.

  Lightning flashed and Glib’s eyes shone yellow and cruel.

  The demon was coming for Nor.

  “Andy? What’s wrong?”

  He started, wheeled around. Nor reached out to him through the streaming rain. He believed now, that was for sure.

  “Andy?”

  Andy looked back. Glib was gone. Dizzy, he stumbled back and pushed people away from him. His head was splitting. One minute the demon was there, real, the next it wasn’t.

  Nor cried out for him to stop.

  “Andy please! Calm down.”

  “We need to get out of here,” he shouted frantically.

  Nor grabbed his arm to steady him but he brushed her away. “It’s okay. It’s just the heat, the crowd...”

  “No,” Andy snapped. Nor pulled back, alarm on her face. “Please, we need to go. Please!”

  Nor glanced at the stage, where the band strummed the slower chords of The Masterplan. She looked back to Andy. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.