Into the Void

by Amanda Frame

  “Okay, fine. I took it. But the original owner wasn’t ever going to use it again so…” he trailed off.

  “So whose is it? And where is he?” This was sounding sketchier by the moment.

  “His name was Albert John Marshall. He was pretty much dead. He didn’t have an astral that was able to take it back, so I’ve been, uh, using it.”

  “Pretty much dead? What does that even mean?” There were so many questions that I didn’t even know where to start. “Who are you, anyway?”

  “I am…or was…John Piscatello.”

  “That’s a name, doesn’t really tell me much. You’re like, what? Eighteen? Nineteen? Did you go to my school? Should I know you?”

  “I didn’t go to your school. I didn’t get to finish high school, unfortunately.” He held his thumb and forefinger close together. “I was this close, though. Still disappointed about that one. But that was…” He twisted his lips, thinking. “Eleven years ago now.”

  I was shocked. “So why do you still look like a senior in high school? And where is your body?”

  “St. Augustine’s cemetery, row sixteen, plot two. I was almost nineteen when my body died and I got stuck in the Void. So I’d be…thirty now, I suppose. At least I still have my good looks.” He smiled at his own morbid joke. I didn’t. He didn’t look so great. Bony, pale, bags under his eyes, and some weird scars on his visible skin.

  “This is insane. Insane!” I scrubbed my hands roughly over my face, making sure I wasn’t dreaming. “So why am I here? Why did you drag me into this?”

  “I didn’t drag you into this. Well, I am a little responsible, but it wasn’t intentional. I’ve known you since you were a little kid. I knew that you were like me—you would accidentally slip into the Void. I actually sense it in a lot of people, but I doubt most are aware of it. That opens you up to some real danger.” He took a deep breath, “Same reason you want to help Brian, you feel guilty. I feel guilty. You were always prone to this, but I’m pretty sure I made it possible because I thinned the barrier by crossing over so much. I was looking out for you, trying to make sure that what happened to me didn’t happen to you!”

  He was angry, but not at me. At himself. “I’ve just been trying to survive all of these years. I never wanted any of this. I was trapped in the Void, I saw a potential way out, so I took it. You don’t know what it was like. The loneliness.”

  I felt bad for him. I truly did. But I was still afraid he had done something horrible to that poor man whose body he wore like a jacket.

  “And now a Leech has escaped. I think I know how to fix it, but I want to be positive. There’s a chance that my assumption about how to kill it might actually make the situation worse.”

  That was not news I wanted to hear. My own research hadn’t turned up much so far, but maybe once John taught me more, I would be able to help further. But right now there was another huge question I was finally going to demand an answer to.

  “You said you think you’re dying. You just told me you’re already dead. How are you dying? Are you, like, a ghost or something?”

  “No, and what died wasn’t me. I just don’t think it’s possible that I’m a ghost. If the Void was an afterlife, wouldn’t there be a lot of people here, and how is it that you are here, and that people fade in and out? I still don’t have a great understanding of why this place exists or what it is, but it’s definitely some kind of twisted reflection of our world.

  “My astral… this form—” he gestured to himself again “—is losing energy. What was sustaining me isn’t working completely anymore. And I don’t have the strength to separate entirely from the other John over there anymore. The already weak tether that I used to be able to stretch very easily has gotten weaker and more…brittle. I am afraid it’s going to snap any day now. I slip in and out of the Void without intent and that used to never happen. It’s getting more and more frequent.”

  “So how can I possibly help with that?” I was getting more tangled up in this by the moment and I was starting to feel dread in the pit of my stomach. The excitement had drained away quickly.

  “I don’t have the energy to carry out this plan by myself and I think I can borrow some from you,” he replied with hesitation, probably not expecting the greatest reaction from me.

  “But what’s the plan? I’m not agreeing to something unless I know exactly what it is. This isn’t the Terms and Conditions. I need to read it before checking the box.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and paused, then the words tumbled out. “I need to break the bond with this body, find the Leech’s physical form and kill it, and then find a new body to tether to. And I need to use some of the energy from your astral to do it.”

  “What? No! No way! What if I get stuck in the Void like you did? Help you find a body? Don’t you mean steal a body? This is crazy! Find someone else!” I scoffed, but could feel panic bubbling in my gut.

  “Anna, there is no—” he started.

  “Yes there is! There have to be other people! We were next-door neighbors since I was a little girl and we both just happen to have this ability? It has to be common!”

  “Well, I think you’re right, I think it is common to have the potential for it. But like I said, I think I triggered it for you.” He cringed. “But I just don’t have the strength to find anyone else. I don’t have enough time left and I don’t even know how!” He composed himself again. “Okay. How about this. You help me break away from this body so I can find and kill the Leech. Then we will revisit the…last request.”

  I gave him a skeptical look.

  “I’m just trying to survive. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “If surviving means taking someone else’s life, then yes. Yes I can,” I replied.

  “I told you! It’s not…” He took an angry breath and regained composure. “I am not taking anyone’s life. You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. I don’t understand how a person can survive without an… astral or soul or whatever, or how an astral can survive without a body.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  We both paused, staring at each other, waiting for someone to make the next move. Should I do this? Should I help him? I wanted so much to fix Brian and get the Leech back into the Void, because it was my fault. It was obviously dangerous, though. But I couldn’t live with this on my conscience. I sighed and threw up my hands in defeat.

  “Fine! Show me around, I guess?”

  “Come on.” He smiled and beckoned me to the front door.

  I clenched my fists and steeled myself for whatever was about to happen next because I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like it.

  CHAPTER 34

  JOHN

  I spent the next couple days exploring more houses in a wider radius. I’d found a few other useful items and continued to get more comfortable about my ability to dodge Leeches. It was hard to know what to take back with me since I wasn’t looking for anything specific. It was time to go somewhere I knew for sure I could bring in a good haul since I was starting to get weaker. Again.

  I had remembered a middle school field trip to a small, local history museum. It was as good a place to start as any. Maybe I could stop at a hardware store on the way back if I saw one.

  It took me about three hours to walk there, longer than I expected, which made me nervous. I was constantly on the lookout for the creatures that could easily kill me permanently, or Leech away my soul. I first spotted one about a quarter of the way through my walk. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the Leech, but it seemed like it might have been a smaller, less scaly version of the lizard with the poison teeth.

  I was sticking to walking close to buildings or houses when possible so I could duck inside or find cover if I saw any flash of movement. Since Florida was basically one giant strip mall, it wasn’t too hard to do.

  I found that there were more Leeches in areas that corresponded to busy parts of town, which made sense. More people to feed o
ff. Since I had theorized years ago that these wraiths of people crossed into the Void when they were very angry, or scared, or were experiencing some other strong emotion, I determined that this was what the Leeches were feeding off. I was distracted by my contemplation and almost missed the creature stalking slowly around the corner of a store across the street.

  I darted behind a clump of three dead-looking palm trees growing in the median between the sidewalk and main stretch of road near a fast food place. I realized what an idiot I had been to travel so far from my surplus outlet, with only a backpack, flashlight, and a knife in a sheath. This had been a stupid idea. I knew deep down that part of the reason I had set out on this journey was boredom, and I had been feeling cocky.

  My heart raced and I took a deep shaky breath as I crouched down and peered slowly around my pathetic hiding place. The Leech resembled a wolf walking on its hind legs. Its coarse fur was the sickly greenish-black color of scum on a pond. It was so odd how different all these creatures were, and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it.

  Luckily, it was traveling in the opposite direction, so I just waited until it grew tiny in the distance and turned down a bend in the road.

  I was jumpy and stressed out for the remainder of my travel, but finally reached the museum. I always felt safer in buildings, although logically, there was no reason the Leeches were any less likely to be hiding inside than outdoors.

  It was dim inside, and I pulled out my flashlight. I was trying to save the lightbulb on my crank flashlight so had brought the rusty one I had found in my surplus outlet. The batteries I found in the back of the cabinet in the gun room had worked, barely. The light was dim and flickering, so I resolved to complete my exploration as quickly as possible.

  The foyer contained a desk and some rotting artwork hanging on the walls. Entering the main area, I swept my pathetic light across the room. Foggy glass cases contained some items in shockingly good condition. I examined each case carefully. A pedal-operated sewing machine from the 1920s, according to the plaque. A typewriter also from the 1920s and cuckoo clock with a sad-looking bird hanging from a dejected spring. This room seemed to be devoted to household items from the early 1900s. Boring.

  I approached another case in the corner and smiled as I peered through the glass. A yo-yo, leather football, and a deck of classic Bicycle playing cards. I lifted the glass cover and it cracked under my fingertips. Unzipping my backpack, I delicately placed the objects inside, looking forward to bringing them back home (home?) and checking out their condition.

  The next room was what I had been excited about and remembered from my field trip. Hunting equipment. A Marlin 39 rifle hung on the wall behind a railing meant to keep curious museum-goers from touching. There was one other rifle I didn’t recognize hanging next to it. Sitting on a shelf inset into the wall under each gun, were their respective bullets, three of each behind a sheet of glass. My heart leapt and I hopped over the railing and delicately tapped on the glass panel below the Marlin 39. It shattered easily. I gently placed the bullets in a small, padded pocket of the backpack. The other panel fractured just as effortlessly. The first bullet I picked up crushed between my thumb and forefinger as if it were made of tin foil.

  “Shit!” I growled, and was startled by the sound of my own voice. I realized I hadn’t spoken since yesterday. Maybe even the day before. Loneliness pushed on me like an oppressive humidity.

  The other bullets seemed far sturdier, and I set them delicately in the pocket with the other three.

  The guns were too long to fit in my backpack, so I left the barrels sticking out the top and zipped around them to hold them in place. I hefted the pack carefully onto my back and explored the rest of the room, feeling damn good about my cache so far. A bow hung on the far wall along with an empty hook that I assumed would have held the arrow. As soon as I touched the bow, the string snapped. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth, trying not to get too upset, and put it in my bag beside the guns anyway.

  There was a display in the middle of the room, also in a glass case, of what looked like a fake bear foot. I didn’t understand at first until I saw the metal contraption next to it. A bear trap. Oh, yes. This was a keeper for sure.

  It was too big and clunky to put in my backpack, not to mention I was afraid it would damage the guns. I’d have to carry the damn thing. I removed the hazy glass case and was pleasantly surprised at the great condition of the trap. It was huge. When I went to pick it up, it was way heavier than expected. Must have weighed over sixty pounds. I groaned. Carrying it was not an option.

  “God damn it!” The trap looked dangerous. In a good way. I needed it. I looked around, but there was nothing else useful in the museum. Some artwork on the walls, decaying tables, and some old artifacts I had no use for. I needed to find something to haul it with, but there was nothing here. I’d have to come back for it. I knew I should have brought the wagon.

  I had walked about a third of the way back and ducked inside an open garage as I saw some movement up ahead. After waiting quite a while, I was about to leave when I spotted a glorious sight hanging on a few large hooks on the wall. A wheelbarrow.

  I rushed over to it and hefted it off the wall with a grunt. I paused, considering my options. Head back to the store, or return to the museum to collect the bear trap and risk arriving home after dark. I’d risk it.

  Getting the bear trap into the rusty wheelbarrow proved difficult, but I eventually managed without tipping it over. Finally, I headed back.

  Even with the wheelbarrow, it was heavy and cumbersome and took a lot of effort to keep it from tipping. I started to panic halfway back to the store as the anemic sun started to set. I made it right before it was completely dark.

  Exhausted, I dropped the backpack on the floor a little too heavily and cringed, hoping I hadn’t broken anything. I decided to wait until morning to check. I trudged back to the supply room, flopped down on my makeshift bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.

  Tomorrow would be a new day in this barren hellhole, and for once, I was looking forward to it.

  CHAPTER 35

  JOHN

  I sat on the floor staring at my cache. I needed to fortify the store and figure out a way to kill Leeches if the need arose. I also needed an escape plan if one made it inside. I sighed. At eighteen years old, I thought I’d be planning out my college applications, not how to protect myself from death by monster.

  I spent almost the entire day hacking the ends of the two-by-fours into sharp points. The hatchet I had found a few days ago came in handy. When I was finally about to go insane with monotony, I stopped and counted my pile. Twenty. Not bad.

  I carted them outside and shoved them in the ground in a half circle around the door, about ten feet out, spaced about a foot and a half apart, angled slightly toward the road. My arms shook with the effort as I hammered them deeper. Admiring my work, I decided that I’d need another row eventually, and would have to go searching for more wood, but for right now, I figured it would at least slow something down for a minute or two, maybe long enough for me to escape by a different route if necessary.

  But how to know when something was approaching? I thought of the cliché tin cans on a string. I had tent stakes that would work well to secure a tin-can alarm, but I had no cans and no rope. I would add that to my list of things to search for.

  Could I dig a trench? I had a shovel and the ground was fairly soft, but it would take ages. Did it really matter, though? Last time I checked, my schedule was pretty open. I’d get to work on it in a day or two. There wasn’t much daylight left.

  The problem with all of my fortification planning was that I had no idea how intelligent these creatures were. I had been assuming they were animals, treating the situation like I needed to protect myself from a bear or lion. For all I knew, they were as smart as I was and would take one look at my tin can alarm, and just step right over it.

  Sighing, I went back inside and opened the backpack.
I gently removed the guns and set them on a shelf. The chances they would work were slim, so I was trying not to get my hopes up. Examining the bullets, I noticed one was dented. Definitely wouldn’t work, but I set it on the shelf next to the guns anyway.

  The bow with no string seemed useless but I wasn’t going to discard anything just yet. I carefully removed the football, playing cards, and yo-yo. When I attempted to unravel the string from around the yo-yo, it frayed and broke. I groaned. Well, maybe I could find a replacement.

  I quickly scrawled a bulleted list on my sheet of cardboard taped to the wall. Wood, cans, rope, yo-yo string.

  The football was definitely useable, which was exciting at first, then depressing when I remembered I obviously had no one to play with. The box of the deck of cards fell apart, but the cards inside were useable.

  I decided I had done enough today and played solitaire until my eyes grew heavy. I settled in for another restless night, hoping to get enough sleep to have another productive day tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. Presumably forever.

  ~

  Misery was setting in as I spent the next few days searching houses, dodging Leeches, digging a trench, and playing solitaire before bed. Even though I was keeping busy, I was so bored. I knew I should be grateful to be bored; it meant nothing was currently trying to kill me.

  Rocking in an old rocking chair in someone’s attic, I was going through photo albums. The pictures were faded and torn but I could make out some of them. Birthday parties, weddings, graduations. Celebrations I would never again attend. I shut the album and ran my hand over the cover, taking a deep breath, as though to breathe in the memories and make them my own.

  I grabbed another album off the stack on the floor. This one had some black-and-white baby pictures in it. The tears that pooled in the corners of my eyes surprised me. I had never even thought about whether I wanted kids; it had been too far in my future. But I was hit with the realization that I no longer had the option. No wife, no kids, no white picket fence. This was my life now. Sitting in a dusty attic going through other people’s memories for fun.