Purgatorium

by J. H. Carnathan

  “No,” I say.

  “Bill Mills,” he responds. “Bill Mills ran the 10,000-meter run at the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. He ran that race in just under twenty-eight minutes and twenty-five seconds. Best moment of his life. He became the only American ever to win an Olympic gold in the event. He coined the phrase ‘Après moi, le déluge.’ That means ‘After me, the flood.’”

  “What does that have to do with me?” I ask, exasperated.

  “He achieved his goal because he never stopped trying, never lost his grace,” my father says. “And why is grace better than hope?”

  I recite the words my dad always liked to preach. “Hope is for people who do not already live in grace.”

  He smiles, passing the book over to me. “I picked this up for you. I want you to take this book and every night you and I will read one quote.”

  I lift the heavy book, feeling its weight and the smoothness of its spine. “Hopefully, there are many words in here that will enlighten you, perhaps more than I ever could, son.”

  My father looks at me with a kind smile that lasts only a second. I smile widely, looking up at my dad. This is the first time my father has ever opened up to me.

  My father quickly changes the subject. “We have a long ways to go so let’s keep going.” I watch more intently, listening as my father tries to teach me how to find the answer. Watching my father, I feel this was another moment we shared.

  I watch in my mind as the memory fades away.

  Suddenly I see that I am back on the rooftop. I embrace Barachiel tightly, as if he were my true father. I look up at his face and see he has changed back to look like himself. I slowly let go and step away from him.

  “It’s easy remembering the bad from the good until you finally start remembering the good!” says Barachiel enthusiastically. I feel confused as to what I must do.

  “It was never about the answer,” Barachiel says. “It was about remembering the steps you had to take to try and solve it. The answer was in here,” he says, putting his finger on my forehead, “all along. You take your mind for granted. Now think of the moment when you thought your father hit your mother.”

  I close my eyes. I hear Barachiel whispering, “Picture your childhood house and let the memory take you there.”

  I open my eyes and look around to see that I am outside my family’s house. I see my hatchet in my hand. I hear a scream coming from inside followed by a thud. I drop the hatchet and run to the door. He will not get away with this, I think to myself.

  I look inside to find not my mom on the floor, but her record player. The pieces of what is left are scattered across the ground. I look over to see my father holding on to my mother while she is crying. I don’t walk in and decide to keep myself hidden. I listen to their conversation while being unnoticed by the both of them.

  “I am so sorry,” he says to her. “I will fix it up. I promise to you. I don’t mean to get so mad.” My mom continues to cry, not letting up. “I just want the best for our son. He is all we got. I can’t be easy on him. He may hate me now but he will understand when he gets older. At least I hope he does. I really messed things up this time, haven’t I?” My mom looking down and nods.

  My dad says, “One day that anger will not bring you a second chance with him. He will get older and leave us and not come back. I don’t want that to happen. I will go talk to him,” he tells her. My mom raises her head back up to him as he says, “Without you...I don’t know what I would do.”

  My mom kisses him and says, “Good thing I am not leaving you any time soon then.” They kiss again as my father looks over at me. I quickly run back to the hatchet.

  I try to turn my attention back to the log. I pull the hatchet up above my head again and swing it down awkwardly. It glances off the log, slips out of my hand, and falls to the ground. I hear the back door open. Turning, I see my father walking out with the broken record player, towards me.

  He looks at the dropped hatchet and continues walking directly up to me. My father picks up the hatchet, grabs my right arm, and shoves the hatchet back into my hand. He doesn’t say anything to me as he puts the log back on the stump.

  He holds my hands tight around the hatchet and lifts them up. My father swings our arms and the hatchet down. The log splits in half.

  “Now, keep doing it just like that.” My father takes another log and stands it in place.

  I lift the hatchet up by myself, swing it down, and the hatchet cuts it straight through. “That a boy!” he yells in excitement. “How about a few more, then can I get your help with something?”

  He shows me the broken record player. “Mom said this thing has some powers that needed to be saved, pronto. I was hoping we could do it together. Maybe once we are done, we can use it to turn back the clock. Start repairing other things.”

  I look up at him and nod, knowing what he truly meant. “Well okay then,” he says with a relieved tone. “Let me get some more wood and I will show you a few moves that will make it easier for you.” He starts to walk away and stops. Turning toward me, he puts his hand on my shoulder. He keeps his head down and doesn’t say anything. But I didn’t need to hear what he had to say because I already knew. He pats me on the shoulder and nods to me. I nod back.

  My father then walks around to the side of the shed and starts stacking all the rest of the wood. I am about to lift the hatchet up again when, suddenly on my left, I catch a glimpse of a bright orange glow. I turn my head to look.

  The sun is going down across the field, lighting up the top of the wheat and catching the wispy clouds above, turning them gold and pink. I gaze out, breathing in deeply, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the moment. My eyes are drawn to the sun’s magnificence. I stare into it as it starts dipping below the horizon. My eyes are fixated. I feel myself being blinded by its amazing splendor. The light shines over my eyes and in that light I see Barachiel walking towards me.

  The light fades away and I realize that I am back on the rooftop.

  I hear Barachiels voice. “Your father is no saint but he isn’t all sinner either. He loved your mother. Loved her enough that when she left, a part of him left with her. These are your words that I am repeating to you, not mine. I don’t know your family or you but the conversations we have had many times leaves me to believe that your father was a good man once. You were a good man once. Instead of running away from the problem, run towards it. Don’t let your father’s sins be your own.”

  I look over to Stephanie, nodding to her. Letting her know that I understand what they want me to do. Barachiel, still walking towards me, says, “In two days your heart will stop. Tomorrow they are expecting us to go over a strategy for the race. Find your peace in running again. That will not be the case. Let today be your Genesis, tomorrow your Exodus.”

  Stephanie chimes in, “We want you to run it tomorrow.” I look over to her in complete shock, knowing I am not ready yet. “It is the perfect time to do it. We would catch each one of them off guard.” She looks to Barachiel. “It would give us enough time to slow them down so they won’t interfere in any way.”

  I look at both of them and think, I am not ready. I panic trying to let them understand. I turn away from them, hoping they get the picture.

  “What is a soul survivor to you? To me, it’s still a quitter. Just a soul that knows only to survive. No chance of risk. Just safe. I never really cared much for the terms ‘soul survivor’ and a ‘lost soul.’ Both sound so hopeless. But did you know there is another choice? I bet your demons forgot to tell you about this one. How about this time instead of being a soul survivor, you try being a soul believer. A soul that is destined to fight for what he believes in.”

  He walks to the telescope and puts his fingers on it. I see a smile peering out as he looks back to me.

  55 Minutes

  “God gave you a brain and look what you use it for. You wasted i
t away on questions that don’t matter when you should be asking yourself just one question: WHO AM I? Are you a writer? A runner? An inventor? A gambler? A mathematician? A husband? A father? Fighter? Cheater? Smoker? Drinker? Quitter? Believer?” Barachiel pauses. “It doesn’t matter who you were. All that matters is who you are now. So, who are you?”

  I don’t know, I think. I feel cold envelop me. Stephanie hands me back my book. “You dropped this,” she says. “We were lost souls until we met you,” she explains. “You showed us how to find our grace again. Don’t let your sins bring you a lifetime of pain. There is a return. You said that.”

  Something as wise as that, coming from my mouth seems so off to me. Like it was another man saying those words. A man I want to be again. But how do I become that man again?

  “Tomorrow is the day you will believe that again. They know you know now. They will come for you, and when they do, we will be there to keep them distracted. And when you finally cross your finish line, I hope you find inspiration to finish your book. I can’t wait to see how it all ends.” She hands me back my flask. I take hold of it, not knowing if I am really ready.

  The silver reflects an image of me. My reflection speaks to me. “They know you’re not ready. They are playing you for a fool.” I regain back my senses and push her away from me. In a heated argument with myself I think, They are saying this is my only shot at this.

  My image speaks again. “Don’t believe their lies. All they want is to make you play by their rules so they can be the ones that will come out the victor. Your life is on the table being gambled away. Your demons are all in and the lost souls have showed their hand to you. If you bet big with your life tomorrow, you will lose everything. Wait just one more day. You have two days left, let tomorrow be the day you gather your senses. Get your head right. Because what you do now will reset your life back.”

  My reflection returns to normal. I put the flask in my pocket and lower my head down trying to figure out what I should do. Barachiel hands me the picture of Madi. “Keep this in mind, it’s the time you spend, not the moments you regret,” Barachiel says, pressing the elevator button.

  “You may have not been praying for yourself but I have. Praying that God will save you from this place. Believe it or not, God has already answered my prayers. God will save you because God has given you the courage to save yourself.”

  His green eyes stay with mine, not giving me any chance to look away. I nod towards him to amuse his theory.

  The doors open. I look in and see Jehudiel is no longer lying there. Where did he go? I wonder.

  Stephanie shouts, “And so what if they are really fast and know how to fight really well! They haven’t seen my moves yet!” She throws some punches and kicks up in the air, then looks over at me and smiles encouragingly.

  I walk in and look at both of them staring at me with confidence that I still don’t see in myself. Deep down, they know I am not ready either. The door closes.

  I stand in the elevator, looking at the painting. I form in my mind a thought. A thought fixated on one truth. The truth that I haven’t been praying. Not knowing or if believing they would even be answered. All this time, thinking the angels have come to save me is now another fictional tale that forces me from what I should believe in. Demons are real, my sins are real, and I am alone in this.

  I lay my hand on the canvas, touching its lighted center, the cross, watching the demons tear it apart. Time goes by as I can hear the the elevator door open behind me, letting me know I am on my floor. But I do not move. I am still, my eyes focused on a painting that I never really understood. Never got its real meaning. Never questioned its central motives. Not wanting to hear what it was trying to say. I just played the part of the viewer. Ignorant in believing it was something more than just a painting, until now.

  The cross’ light from the painting sinks into me. That glowing center piece transfigures into me. My eyes are wide open. My body feels warm. My mind is clear. My soul can hear it speak to me. The story it conveys brings me not sadness but courage. I am in awe from its beauty. In the back of my head, I come to a realization that Barachiel is right. Maybe it’s time I start believing in myself for once.

  Cold air releases from my breath. I blink, letting me adjust back to reality. Moving away from the portrait, I look around, feeling awake. Almost as if I have been in a mystical dream this whole time. I walk out of the elevator and the cold air finally registers in my head.

  For how long was I in a daze?

  I quickly scamper to my door, putting my hand on my doorknob and pushing it open.

  The whole room looks like a wintry wonderland. Everything from the chandelier to the piano is covered in ice. The ceiling drips with snow particles making their way down to greet me. I walk, moving silently on the iced-over ground. The night sky peering out of my glass windows brings an enchanting view to my snowy living room space.

  I am curious as to why I don’t see any reapers, but erase the thought, hoping they went after Jehudiel instead. I just need to get into my bed and I will be in the safe zone.

  I turn the corner to my bedroom and also see that everything has been frozen. I look over at my now frozen alarm clock: 58:52. I barely made it, I think with hope.

  I examine the room and notice the hourglass reflecting off the window. I look over to my wall where my blueprints are located, remembering the 8 pictures Michael took.

  8 pictures, 8 flaws, 8 hourglasses, I think to myself.

  I grab my logbook from the desk, flipping to the end, finding where I wrote that I had 9 hourglasses that I needed to break. This is the one hourglass that Michael didn’t take a picture of. I must have kept it from them. But how have they never seen it before?

  I remember only seeing it in the nighttime but never the daytime. Suddenly I think of the answer. It’s the last hourglass that needs to be broken. It makes perfect sense. Why would the roof’s hourglass be the last one when I still have one more stop before I have to get in…

  Then it hits me. The bed is the last time zone.

  I breathe out cold air. Knowing what awaits me, I turn. A reaper is standing before my door. I look to my bed, ready to jump, when it swiftly grabs the mattress and throws it straight towards me.

  I leap out of the way as my mattress rushes past me, flying out the window, leaving me exposed. I look at my bedside table, see a pen, and snatch it. I jump, grab the reaper’s hood, pull it off, and stab the pen into the reaper’s skull. The reaper drops to the floor, melting the ice below. I run to the broken window and see reapers flying up towards me.

  I look around, trying to figure out how to not let the reapers pick up my heat signature. Glancing down, I see the ground freezing over again, ice getting closer to my feet. I back up away from it, but the ice is soon coming from the living room doorway, spreading towards the bathroom. I keep backing up, into the kitchen, until my back hits the refrigerator.

  Startled, I look behind me. Suddenly, I have an idea of what to do. If I am cold, they won’t read my heat signature! I try to pull open the freezer door but it is still frozen from earlier. I look back over to see the ice is continuing to make its way towards me. I pull harder on the handle and hear the ice breaking from inside. The door releases from its frozen hold and I sweep everything out of it onto the floor.

  Quickly, I climb inside the freezer, shutting the door just as reapers enter. Ice freezes over the refrigerator closing me in. Curled up in a ball in the freezer, I listen, careful not to make any noise. I hear the reapers searching, shrieking to each other in the living room. Then closer, in the kitchen, and then back in the living room.

  Finally, after what seems like a few seconds, I hear them leave. Silence. I put my feet up against the inside of the freezer door and push. It doesn’t budge. I push again, mustering all my strength. I start to shiver. I try pushing again and this time hear a slight cracking sound. A tiny bit of l
ight comes in through the millimeter opening I created. I push as hard as I can, but it won’t open.

  Knowing that I only have to wait until the clock turns 60:00, I decide to just give up. Go big or go home? I repeat to myself. I am just not ready. The truth is, with my family gone and nothing to go back to, I don’t think I will ever be ready.

  I look through the crack outside the freezer. Back in my bedroom, the frozen-over clock on the bedside table counts up: 59:58, 59:58, 60:00.

  The car lies upside down. I am sprawled out in the snow beside it. I slowly turn my aching head to the right and see a pop singer’s face on the billboard, then the metal girders of the bridge. I turn my head back toward the car. Madi is inside pressed against the roof. I notice that her eyes are open, looking towards me. I see a tear fall from her eye streaking through the blood on her face.

  I try to speak. I can hear my weak voice calling to her. “Madi? Madi? Please, Madi, hold on!”

  I feel an instant wave of heat rush over my body. My face feels like it’s gonna melt off any moment now. Why does this keep happening? I think.

  I hear something moving through the air above me. I tilt my head back and look up. The Valkyrie! Suddenly, everything is silent. The Valkyrie floats in above me. Snow falls slowly between us.

  “Why can’t they live?”I cry out.

  The Valkyrie glares at me. “You can’t change it. What’s done is done.” It floats slowly to the side of the car and looks inside.

  “Get away from them!” I scream. I use all my strength trying to drag my broken body closer to Madi and Anna. I see Anna in the backseat with shards of glass all over her.

  “Take my life, not theirs,” I plead. “I beg you. Take mine! It’s not their time! Please!” The Valkyrie looks back at me and floats over to the back of the car.