The Torment

by Anthony Hains

  Lacey gasped. For the second time this night she felt like falling to her knees. Her hands flew to her lips and she nearly knocked herself in the head with her flashlight. Martin’s smile widened in amusement. Oh God, how she missed that smile.

  “Martin.” Lacey whispered his name, or thought she did. She couldn’t tell. Martin nodded ever so slightly. Lacey took a step toward him and faltered. Martin’s expression turned wistful.

  “Martin, can you talk?”

  “No.” This came from Laz, who was now behind her. She felt the young man’s hand on her right shoulder. She wouldn’t have thought him capable of a supportive gesture like this—she’d never seen one from him—but there it was.

  “That’s just his soul,” Laz said. “Me and him have this job. We watch the gate—it’s sort of like an entrance. Dad says we’re sentinels. One living and one resurrected. We have to work tonight.”

  Oh, Laz, you’re not making any sense. But this whole night isn’t making sense.

  Lacey felt her legs move, and she cautiously approached Martin. She wasn’t afraid, but felt strangely reverent—like she should stand back out of respect or honor. She couldn’t stop once she’d started, though, and reached her husband in a few strides. He was somehow less solid up close, as if his image was being projected on fine mist. She hesitated to reach out her hand.

  “You can touch him, but you’ll go through.”

  Her left hand slowly descended through Martin. He wasn’t solid, that was true, but there was unexplainable warmth. There was the essence of Martin, and Lacey’s heart leapt with joy. Though Martin’s image didn’t move, Lacey sensed a caress, as if he’d taken both her hands in both of his and brought it to his lips.

  “Oh, Martin.” Her eyes watered, and one tear advanced down her cheek.

  “We gotta do something.” Laz shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  Lacey turned toward him with the most difficult effort. She felt her neck creaking as if it were encased in plaster.

  All those years. How can I turn away?

  Laughter like an echo of breaking glass across the expanse of a frozen lake surrounded them. Lacey spun her head rapidly from left to right in a desperate attempt to locate the source. Ground cover and saplings rippled in the moonlight as featureless entities darted just beyond her field of vision.

  Martin tore away from her with astonishing speed and glided toward something she couldn’t see. His flaming sword blazed and flashed through the vegetation. Oddly, the flames didn’t burn it. Laz ran parallel to him, and somehow he possessed his own sword. The flames leapt with miraculous intensity, casting the immediate path in blazing light. Shrieks came from the woods as both Martin and Laz raced among the trees. Figures with the appearance of rolling storm clouds scampered from their midst and onto the path right before her eyes.

  No bigger than your average-sized child, the figures possessed features that boiled with malevolence. Faces that bore no semblance of kindness glared with hollow eyes before shifting to stonelike countenances that would cut skin and bone with one painful glance.

  The demons, or whatever they were, panicked and ran into one another as they tried to escape Martin and Laz. The two of them were rounding up the creatures and attempting to herd them toward the old cabin further down the path. She couldn’t understand why they didn’t run in the other direction, toward her. Then she realized that they were unable to because she was blocking their way.

  She also was hoisting a flaming sword.

  Where’d this come from?

  She had no answer, but it didn’t matter. She could help Martin and Laz, the mysterious young man who no longer surprised her with what he knew. Lacey elevated the sword above her head and advanced slowly toward the creatures. With Laz and Martin on either side, they were forced to advance down the path.

  Martin was amazingly fast. When a creature tried to ease its way from the group, he was there swinging the sword. He actually sliced one that was too slow to avoid it. The flames tore through the form, producing ghastly cries that were echoed by the other creatures in a strange display of empathy. The eviscerated form fell writhing to the dirt and exploded into a mist of flaming droplets. The others yelped in terror and scampered quickly to the cabin.

  When the entities reached the cabin, Lacey was astounded as they scrambled over one another and pushed their way through the door. There had to be twenty of them. If a pair reached the entrance simultaneously, they would claw and scrape one another until one obtained the advantage and jumped through. Martin and Laz hurried the process even further by slicing at the creatures. They frequently missed, but if they made contact with one, the thing would cry out, burst into the flaming mist, and disappear.

  As the last one jumped into the cabin, Martin planted himself before the doorway, swinging the sword in a circle to block any exit attempt.

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Nelson,” Laz said at her left shoulder. He hadn’t walked to her side; he was just there. “I ought to explain some more.”

  Laz stared at her face with a steel-colored intensity. His lips were pursed, set with expectations of next steps. She wouldn’t be able to talk him out of them. She wouldn’t try.

  “Yes, Laz. Spill it. I need answers fast.” Her eyes darted to the ghost of her husband. “I’m losing my equilibrium here and I need it back.”

  “Okay.” He held out his hand to her. She took it without hesitation.

  And she saw everything.

  Laz could hear the yelling despite the rage of the storm. Banshee winds assaulted him with snowflakes that felt like metal shavings. The volume of space taken up by air seemed to have been cut in half. Laz inhaled more snow than air with each breath as gusts pushed frozen crystals with an intensity he’d never seen in his life. The storm, which had been producing heavy snow for the past hour, had turned into a monster.

  “What’s the matter with you? You can’t do that.” The shout was stunningly clear over the shriek of the wind. Laz recognized the voice. He walked closer to the cabin, now only a stone’s throw away.

  “Dude, shut the fuck up.” This voice, also yelling but with an undertone of excitement, was scary.

  Laz trudged as fast as he could toward the structure, all the time fearing what he would see.

  “You can’t do that,” the first person said again. “That’s, like, rape.” His voice rose to the point of breaking. Laz knew who it was.

  “You fucking pussy. Go wait outside.”

  “No, man. Let her go!”

  Laz was practically at the door when he heard loud movements. Things were crashing, maybe a person fell. There was a smacking sound and someone cried out in pain. The door of the cabin burst open and a person came caterwauling out, stumbling off the porch. His buddy Jared fell on his ass in the snow. His nose and his mouth were bleeding. He’d been punched in the face.

  “Wait in the fucking car, dude.”

  Mitchell stood in the door. Hunter was behind him, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet with a stupid grin on his face.

  There was light in the cabin. Beyond the figures in the doorway, a battery-powered lantern was sitting on the floor. So was a pretty girl about their age. She huddled in the corner and her blond hair, which was all mussed up, glowed in the artificial light. Her shirt had been ripped open, and her hands were tied together. Jared would never do that. It must’ve been Mitchell and Hunter.

  “Look,” Hunter said. “It’s the fucking retard.”

  Mitchell’s eyes caught his. “Jesus.” He shook his head in disgust. “Jared, take care of this shit.”

  The door closed, but not before Laz heard Hunter say, “Where’d he fucking come from?”

  The shrieking wind sounded desolate. Once the door of the cabin shut with a bang, Laz felt strangely abandoned—like he was the only human left alive in a barren world. Jared stood unmoving for a few moments until he was jolted by a howling blast. He took a step toward the cabin, then stopped. He turned to Laz and moved to approach
him, then stopped. He turned to the cabin again and was greeted with another sudden gust of wind with horizontal snow slicing into his face. He turned around defensively.

  Laz thought Jared was going to cry.

  “Laz, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jared’s voice broke on the last word. He was crying. No doubt about it.

  “I live down the road apiece.” Laz waved in the general direction of his house.

  “I know that. But, God. What are you doing here? Now? In this weather?”

  Laz stared at the other boy, whose eyes were spilling over with tears. “You needed help.”

  “How the fuck did you know?” Jared’s plaintive cry was muffled by the snow. Realization dawned on his face and he shook his head briskly. “Aw, fuck…”

  Laz didn’t move a muscle. He wasn’t even aware of the cold. “Where did that girl come from?”

  “I don’t know, I swear.” Jared looked like he needed Laz to believe him.

  Laz did, of course. Jared was a good guy.

  “She just showed up right after we got here. Mitchell and Hunter seemed to know her. I’ve never seen her before. They never said anything about a girl being up here. We just came up to get high. At least they did. Mitchell has beer and weed.”

  The snow was swirling and falling at a ridiculous rate.

  “I didn’t even know it was supposed to snow.”

  Laz wasn’t sure if he believed that. It was all over the TV.

  “We should leave, Jared. Come to my house.”

  The words had almost been carried away by the wind when the screams came from inside the cabin.

  “I said no!” The girl’s voice was unmistakably emphatic.

  “Oh, crap,” Jared said.

  “Get off of me! Stop! Stop!”

  Jared cursed and stomped his boot like a little kid. Snow burst around it. He twirled toward Laz, anguished. “God dammit, Laz. I gotta go back in.”

  “Jared, no.”

  But the other boy was already running awkwardly through the accumulating snow.

  Jared bounded the cabin porch with one leap and slammed into the door like a lineman. He lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees on the cabin floor. The girl was screaming incoherently now. She was on a sleeping bag rolled out on the floor. Her hands, still tied together, we stretched over her head and attached to something out of view. Mitchell was on top of her, his jeans and underwear around his ankles, bare ass going up and down with each thrust. He knew what they were doing to her. Hunter was standing over the two, and his jeans and underwear were in a pile behind him. He was touching himself.

  Mitchell finished with a long groan and lifted himself off the girl, who stopped screaming.

  “Shit, man, it’s cold. Shut the fucking door.” Mitchell lifted himself off the girl with a sucking sound. Laz saw wetness and blood.

  “C’mon, dude. My turn. Get off.” Hunter giggled hysterically.

  This was wrong. He had to get Jared and leave.

  The girl turned her head and looked straight at Laz. He had the uneasy feeling she was going to laugh.

  The door slammed all by itself. No one was near it. Jared was still trying to get to his feet, Mitchell had just rolled off the girl, and Hunter had fallen to his knees, ready to mount her.

  Not before Laz looked into the girl’s eyes, however. They were reptilian. Elliptical pupils inset with golden spheres.

  The world tilted.

  Laz could have sworn that the ground beneath him shook, or, more accurately, fell two inches lower. An earthquake? He didn’t think so. Besides, the air had changed. No longer achingly pristine from the driven snow, it was now gritty. Sand, or some kind of arid powder, caused him to cough.

  What was this?

  More screams now. Guy screams, not girl screams. The cabin shook like a giant was rattling it in between its hands. Wooden slats moaned painfully as the structure shook. Laz thought it would break apart. Something horrible was happening inside, and Laz feared he knew what it was.

  Jared. He had to save Jared. He didn’t belong to them.

  Jolted by this thought, Laz moved. He ran in the tracks left a moment before by Jared. A couple of his friend’s footprints had already been wiped out by the falling snow. He had to get his friend back to his house.

  The door wouldn’t budge at first, but Laz shoved it again and felt a fierce power surge through his arms. It flew open in a blur of wood.

  Shadowy figures comprised mostly of black smoke—but somehow maintaining a human form—dashed around the cabin. Yelping with glee, the figures were dragging Mitchell and Hunter by their feet through a hole in the back wall of the cabin. The two boys screamed as their naked bodies were pulled through the empty space where a wall should have been. Beyond the wall there was no sign of a raging blizzard. Instead, an arid landscape of orange shades and formations of rock and sand loomed. Hunter’s screams intensified as his body touched the landscape. Mitchell was clawing at the cabin floor, trying to stop the progress of his captors. His fingernails snapped off with sickening clicks between the wooden planks. Moments before he was pulled from the cabin, Mitchell looked at Laz, soundlessly begging for help he knew was impossible. At last he slipped into the orange world and screamed. His skin hit the ground with a hissing sound.

  He was burning.

  “Laz…” Another desperate cry brought Laz’s attention to a far corner of the cabin.

  Three of the shadow figures were ripping off Jared’s clothes while he was swinging wildly at them. His coat and shirt were gone, and his bare chest and stomach were covered with scratches and bite marks. Blood was flying and smearing his chest. One of the things slapped him in the face, and the sound was like a fat schoolbook being smacked onto a granite countertop.

  “Laz!”

  This wasn’t right. Jared wasn’t involved.

  The things slashed quickly at Jared’s jeans, and Laz thought he saw claws like daggers rip the material away. Jared flailed with his right leg, trying to kick one of the creatures. One of the claws caught deep in his thigh muscle, and the creature tore the skin all the way down past his knee and into his calf.

  Laz found himself moving with a surprising speed.

  “No, you’re wrong! Stop!”

  Laz reached back and slapped at the creatures. Heat and flame blazed off his hand. No… he had something in his hand. Something like a stick or a tool. It was on fire.

  The flames sliced through one of the shadow creatures. It burst into a red mist on contact. The screech of the other two creatures was earsplitting. Laz couldn’t believe what was happening, but he didn’t question it. He swung again, splattering a second figure. The third ran panicking for the opening at the back of the cabin.

  As quickly as it appeared, the hole along with the scalding world beyond was gone.

  Laz looked at his hand. The weapon was also gone. It hadn’t been a stick. His mind took a few seconds to process what he saw. A sword. A flaming sword.

  Whimpering brought him back to the present. Jared was rolled into a ball and pressed into a corner. His body was a bloody mess. All he had on was his undershorts, and they were in tatters. Laz looked around for his clothes, but they were all torn to pieces. Even his boots were unrecognizable.

  Laz had to get Jared back to his house. How, though, without any clothes? He could give him his coat, but what about his legs and feet?

  Laz bit his lower lip. That was the best he could do. Give him his coat. Maybe he could carry Jared on his back for part of the way. He would do it, whatever it took. Jared had helped Laz before, and now it was time to return the favor.

  “Jared?” Laz knelt down beside him. “Come on. We have to get you out of here.”

  Jared looked at him, uncomprehending. Blood and tears smeared his face. Snot hung down from his nose and into his mouth. He didn’t seem to notice. He clutched himself further into a ball and sunk further into the corner.

  Laz wondered if they could stay here, but no. Heat was escaping the cabin
. The lantern illuminated a hostile scene—one Laz didn’t want to spend another second in. He knew that Jared didn’t want to either.

  He reached for Jared’s forearm and tried to pull him to his feet. Jared wouldn’t budge.

  “C’mon, Jared. Please.”

  “Let me try.”

  Laz gasped at the voice and fell over beside Jared. There wasn’t anyone else here. Jared’s head also popped up at the mysterious words.

  They were kind words, or at least they sounded kind. Like the words he heard from people who wouldn’t make fun of him or beat him up or push his head into the toilet in the boys’ room at school. This was someone who could maybe help.

  A man was crouched in front of them. He hadn’t been there a second before, but now he was. He was dressed like a sheriff, and Laz realized that it was the sheriff. The old sheriff, the one who died a few years ago. His former teacher’s husband.

  Laz wondered how this was possible, but only for a second. He accepted the logic of it. After the flaming sword, it made sense.

  “We have to get him back to my house,” Laz told the sheriff.

  “I know. Help is coming. He’ll be okay.”

  The sheriff’s lips never moved. Laz heard the voice only in his head. He smiled, feeling more relaxed. This would work.

  The sheriff turned to Jared and held out his hand.

  To Laz’s surprise, Jared sat up when he clasped the sheriff’s hand. He pushed off the floor with his other arm and stood. Blood poured slowly down his leg and chest. The sheriff placed his arm around the boy’s shoulders for support and gently maneuvered him out the door into the snowstorm.

  Laz followed behind and closed the cabin door behind him. He hurried to catch up to the sheriff and Jared. The blizzard continued to rage all around them, but Laz felt none of the cold or the snow. They seemed to be walking in a protected space. Warmth surrounded them like a blanket, and while their feet pressed into the drifts, it was as if they were walking on cotton balls.

  Laz was concerned about Jared, though. He wasn’t reacting to anything at all. He stared ahead, not saying anything. Laz asked him how he felt but got no answer.