by Chris Miller
At the same moment, the blue spear of light, with its tendrils of fingers, folded in on itself and vanished back into the marker. It shone brilliantly for a full two seconds before emitting its own shuh-whump of energy and splitting down the center, falling to the floor of the sanctuary. The two pieces wobbled unsurely for a moment before one side toppled over and crushed the stairs beneath it. The other side came to stillness, and all sound but the pelting drops of rain vanished into the sky.
James held his position for a moment longer before allowing his arms to fall to his sides as he emptied his lungs with a loud, exasperated sigh of air. He heaved breaths for several seconds before turning his head around to Denarius, Marlena, and Martin.
Their faces were all identical masks of awe as they stared back at him with something like amazement and fear in equal measures. James tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. He hoped they took his meaning.
Then his world went black as he sprawled onto the floor.
38
Faint voices drifted to his ears, coming in and out of the focus of his hearing. Something brushed across his face. He could feel the now cooling blood wiped away from his face, replaced by a light drizzle of cool moisture. He tried opening his eyes, but all he could see was a haze of shapes in the gloom, then his eyes were shut again.
“ . . . otta wake up, Mr. Ja . . . ” a voice drifted to him momentarily before washing back out in a garbled tide. “ . . . an’t die on u . . . ”
He tried blinking again, this time with slightly better results. The thing wiped over his face again, and when he fluttered open his eyes, he could just make out the face of Marlena, her eyes concerned and her mouth frowning. Her hair was matted and wild, caked blood on the side of her scalp where she’d been grazed by Dreary’s bullet, but James thought she was a sight to behold in that moment, beautiful and transcendent. He tried to smile.
“You just wake up now, y’hear?” Marlena said. “My husband needs your help!”
That brought him out of his fog. James rolled to his side, slowly, wincing from the ache in his shoulder, his body protesting all over. He was tired. Drained. Hurt badly. But Denarius was worse. Though he didn’t know what she expected he could do for the man, he decided to get off the floor anyway.
She moved aside as he made it over onto his knees. He stayed like that for several seconds, catching his breath and curling his hurt arm up to his chest. Then he peered up from beneath the brim of his hat at Denarius and his heart sank.
Denarius was on his back, his head resting in his son’s lap, hand clasped tightly in Martin’s. He was shaking all over, gasping for breath, his eyes blinking wildly. The rain had eased to a light drizzle in the time James had been unconscious, though he had no idea how long that had been. Could have been a few seconds or half an hour. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. And when his eyes fell to the red horror on Denarius’s stomach, he knew nothing he might do now would matter either.
“Oh, Christ,” James muttered, barely audible.
He crawled toward his new friend shakily, taking in the wound in his belly as he did. It was gashed open badly, and a tangled loop of what looked like lower intestine hung out of the ragged flesh.
Martin was crying, soaked through to the bone, his teeth bared in mourning.
“Daddy,” the boy wept, rocking on his rump. “Daddy, you can’t die, no suh, daddy! This man gonna fix you right up!”
Denarius’s eyes moved slowly and met his son’s. He didn’t say anything, only smiled warmly at his boy, a knowing look on his face. Martin seemed to glean his meaning at once as his sobs intensified and he buried his face next to that of his father’s. Marlena scooted over next to Denarius, looked at his wound with a grimace for a moment, then looked to James.
“I seen you use that magic, suh,” she said in a wavering voice. “You can fix my man’s belly! You can fix—”
James was shaking his head before Denarius cut her off, a look of helpless anguish coming over his face.
“Marlena, darlin’,” Denarius managed through a cough of blood. “Baby, it ain’t that kind of ma . . . magic.”
He rolled to his side enough to cough out a pint of slimy blood onto the wet planks. He spat twice before rolling his head back into his son’s lap and meeting their eyes in turn.
“Mr. James Dee got magic in him, alright,” Denarius said and managed a pained smile. “But it ain’t the healin’ kind, I’m afraid.”
Martin and Marlena’s eyes both flooded with tears then as they stared down at Denarius for a moment before turning on James in unison, their expressions desperate and full of crumbling hope.
James only shook his head once and lowered his gaze to Denarius.
“I wish to Christ I could do something, Denarius,” James said, reaching out and taking the man’s hand in his own. “I wish like hell I could.”
Denarius nodded through his shudders, which were now intensifying, and managed another smile, more diminished this time.
“I know that, Mr. Dee,” he said. “And I told you, you got good in you yet. You done saved this here world, suh. Ain’t no bad man would save the world. Ain’t no bad man would save my family. You remember that, ya hear? Ain’t no bad man would do that.”
Denarius squeezed James’s hand then and nodded. James squeezed back.
“It’s been an honor knowing you, Denarius.”
Denarius smiled wearily. “An honor knowing you, Mr. Dee.”
James laughed then and shook his head. Marlena turned to him, her eyes narrowing.
“What you find funny, now of all times, mister?” she asked, a hint of venom creeping into her voice.
James held his other hand out to her in a calming gesture.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he started and tried his hardest to covey his empathy to her through his eyes. “It’s just, Dee ain’t really my name so much as it’s an initial.”
Denarius and Marlena both looked at him with perplexed qualities. Martin paid none of them any mind as he wept on his father’s shoulder.
“When I came here from my own time and place,” James said as he shrugged, “well, I had to leave everything I knew and loved behind. At some point along the way, I lost sight of who I was deep down. The calling, the mission, what have you, it became everything. I started using my Christian name with just the initial of my last. Not really sure why, but I did.”
Denarius raised his head ever so slightly. It looked like a monumental effort to James.
“Then what’s your name, suh? Your real name, I mean?”
James smiled widely at his friend, tears stinging his own eyes now.
“My friends call me Jim,” he said. “Jim Dalton.”
They all stayed like that for several seconds. Finally, Denarius started to nod and lay his head back. He went into another coughing fit, the sound of phlegm and blood bubbling past his lips throughout. When he was still, he smiled at James through blood-soaked teeth.
“Jim Dalton,” he said, trying the words out. “I like that. A hell of a lot better name than James Dee.”
James—Jim—couldn’t help but laugh at this. Though Denarius was unable to laugh with him, he smiled, as did Marlena, though her smile was markedly sadder than her husband’s.
James finished his laugh, squeezed his friend’s hand once more, and released him. They all seemed to understand he was giving them their privacy with Denarius, and Marlena and Martin focused back on him.
“Boy,” Denarius said in a tremulous voice, as though speaking were a great effort, “you take care of your mama now, ya hear?”
Martin’s eyes flooded with tears as he nodded in the affirmative to his father, sobs breaking through as he tried to hold them in.
“You the man now. And you gonna have to help her get ready for your baby brother or sister.”
Martin’s eyes went wide with shock then, as did Marlena’s.
“You knew?” she asked Denarius.
He turned to her, holding her hand close to his
chest, and nodded.
“I seen how you was protecting that tummy of yours,” he said and chuckled. “Same as you did when Martin was in there and we be out working them fields.”
Several agonized laughs escaped him, though he seemed to be enjoying the moment rather than resenting it.
“You always was careful ‘bout not lettin’ nothin’ harm that baby. And you’ll have Martin to help you now.”
He smiled at her again as her face contorted in a rictus of grief and what might have been joy at once. She sobbed loudly and covered her mouth a moment later.
“Don’t you cry now,” Denarius said, trying to calm her. “Ain’t no good for the baby. Got him to think about, now.”
She took a few breaths, nodding rapidly, then pulled her hand away to reveal an anguished smile of her own.
“So, you think it’s a boy, do ya?”
Denarius nodded. “I sho-nuff do, Missus King. I always move my hips just right to make boys when we have time to ourselves.”
She wept with laughter then, giving him a light, playful shove on the shoulder. Denarius was grinning widely back at his wife in spite of his visible pain. Martin still seemed to be in shock.
“D-daddy?” the boy asked when the laughter subsided.
Denarius turned to him. “Yes, son?”
“I’m gonna make you proud, daddy,” he said, his face serious. “Imma take good care of mama and the baby. You’ll see. I’ll make you proud. You’ll see from . . . from . . . ”
He broke down into fresh sobs then as Denarius reached up and stroked his son’s face with the tips of his fingers, calming the child.
“Martin,” Denarius said with admiration in his tone. “You been making me proud since the day you’s born, boy. Ain’t nothing you could ever do would change how proud I am to have you as my son.”
James turned away from them then, nursing his wounded shoulder and walked back toward the ruined marker. He felt he was intruding on their final moments and meant to give them the privacy they deserved. As he made his way, he glanced out past the collapsed wall and saw several people standing outside, their eyes wide and jaws slack. His first reaction was to go for his gun, but a second glance told him there was no need. These people weren’t here to cause them harm. Those who had meant harm had died in the battle outside and within the church. These were merely those who’d been trapped here against their will, now in stupefied awe of their newfound freedom.
He turned from them and looked upon the broken marker. Its markings were dark, and no glow emitted from its inky depths now. It was little more than a ruined artifact.
He held out his good arm, waved it beneath where the pieces of the marker lay, and both heard and felt the rumble as rock and earth moved at his will. Moments later, the rumbling reached a crescendo and the floor and the ground beneath swallowed the pieces of the obsidian cube. It vanished beneath the dirt and rubble, out of sight.
He waited there like that, staring down at the spot where the marker had vanished, for a long time. When he finally turned back toward the King family, he saw Denarius was no longer moving, his eyes closed and his chest still. Martin wept on his shoulder, still holding his father’s limp hand, as Marlena rose to her feet, wiping tears from her face.
James didn’t move as she made her way to him slowly down the aisle, only stopping when she was two feet in front of him.
“Mr. Ja—um—Jim,” she said, her eyes on a spot on the floor between them.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
She met his eyes. “I’m sure you’d like some rest. Lord knows my boy and I could use some. But my husband needs a . . . a proper burial. I wondered if you might help me see to it.”
He smiled at the anguished woman as warmly as he could.
“It would be my honor, Missus King.”
They made their way back to Denarius and the weeping Martin then, joining hands as they made their way, taking strength from each other. Outside, the onlookers began to wander about, confused and unsure. But things would be set to rights soon enough, James knew. And this damned town would have a chance to be reborn.
As he reached his fallen friend, the sun began breaking through the clouds above.
EPILOGUE
Denarius was buried up by the ridge where he and James had come into town early that morning. With the sun shining over the town, the shimmering waters of the lake danced with prisms of light and birds began to sing as the world seemed to come back to life. Some of the townsfolk had helped, though James had done most of the work with a twirl of his hands.
Prayers were said and, at the end, James had made the sign of the cross over his chest, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. It felt good to do it, and even he prayed for his fallen friend. He had stayed with Marlena and Martin for a time as the townsfolk wandered back to wherever they had come from, out of habit or with some purpose of destination, he didn’t know. The temperature had risen when the sun came out, and beads of sweat now cropped on his brow. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.
“Gettin’ warm out,” Marlena said, glancing up into the trail leading into the woods.
James nodded. “Where will you and the boy go?”
She glanced at him, then back down to the fresh grave where her husband lay, and shrugged.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Ain’t much back at our house, and Martin and I can’t keep up the fields without . . . with . . . ”
She took a breath, covering her mouth with her knuckles a moment, and exhaled slowly. Then she went on.
“I don’t much care for the idea of being far from Denarius,” she said.
James nodded, looking down at Marin. He ruffled his hair, though Martin didn’t seem to notice. Then he looked back to Marlena.
“There’s plenty of things to be done here, you know?”
She looked at him, confused for a moment, blinking rapidly.
“Stay here, you mean, suh?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just a thought. This place could really be something nice if the right person were to see to the town. There’s still plenty of townsfolk around who’d likely be eager to build something decent out of what’s been here all these years.” He shrugged. “Just a thought.”
She seemed to consider this, looked to Martin and then to the grave, then to her belly before returning her eyes to his.
“Where will you go?” she asked.
James looked up to the sky. Most of the clouds were gone now, and he squinted against the bright light of the day.
“I been traveling for far too many years,” he said. “But I can’t stay here. I don’t belong. Denarius taught me that, I reckon. Though I don’t think he ever realized it. A man’s place is with his family. A good man’s place, that is. And I’ve been gone from mine far too long.”
She nodded and placed a hand on his wounded shoulder. He winced, and she pulled away, apologizing.
“We need to see to that before you go,” she said.
He waved her off. “Where I’m going, they’ve got a lot better ways of caring for a wound like this. I wouldn’t argue with you if you were to offer to clean it up and put it in a sling, however.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Of course, Mr. Dalton.”
They made their way back to town and Marlena cleaned his wound and made a sling for his arm out of some cloth she found in the old General Store. Then she and James left Martin on the porch of the store and walked the short distance to the now destroyed temple of the Elder. As they passed the stained floor and the still lying bodies of several men, he stopped, eyeing something on the floor. He stooped and snatched it up, turned it over in his hand a few times, then held it out to Marlena.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking the battered book in her hands.
“That’s Mr. Gear Dreary’s book of the Elders,” he said, nodding to the tome. “Destroy it, keep it, whatever. Just don’t let anyone else get it.”
She looked at him, her dark
eyes narrowed.
“What’s out there, Mr. Dalton?” she asked, nodding to the sky. “Out there. Wherever that thing come from?”
James looked to the sky a moment, then down at the floor.
“It’s all in that book, if you feel the need to know about it. But I’ll tell ya, I think you’d be happier not knowing.”
She didn’t say anything, and several moments later he nodded at her, tipping his hat, and began to move toward the center of the aisle. He raised his hand, made a waving motion, and the air before him began to shimmer, a small warble coming to their ears. The sound began to rise slowly, and as it did, he turned back to Marlena one last time, a curious look on his face.
“What will you name him?” he asked.
Marlena looked confused for a moment, hugging the book to her stomach. Then she looked down, pulling the book away and letting her hands fall to her hips. She met his eyes again, the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
“You think it’s a boy too, do ya?” she asked with a small laugh.
“Ma’am,” he said, shrugging, “if Denarius says it’s a boy, I’m inclined to agree with the man.”
They shared a short but genuine laugh.
“Stephen,” Marlena said finally as the last chuckles faded.
James nodded, pursing his lips, and almost laughed. He held it in, though, and smiled at her.
“Stephen King, huh?” he said, and this time couldn’t contain a small bark of laughter.
“Something funny about that,” she asked, putting a hand to one hip.
James shook his head and held his hand up in surrender.
“No, ma’am,” he said, and laughed again. “Least not for another hundred years or so.”
Marlena’s head cocked to the side in confusion. James just waved and turned back to the shimmering air before him. He had places to go and a family to find. He could finally feel the comfort in his heart of a man at peace with himself, something he had not felt in a long time.
You have a pure heart, but you’re not a good man.