Running on Empty (Journeyman Book 6)

by Golden Czermak

  “Did what?” Marcus asked, looking into Joey’s now sparkling eyes. He knew exactly what he was talking about, but didn’t want to …

  “The Grail…” Joey pressed. “Why did you use the Grail?”

  Marcus pulled away from him, sliding his hands into his pockets. His gaze fell to the swirling, stylized grass.

  “Joey, I did it for you.”

  “There could have been another way!” Joey responded frantically.

  “There wasn’t another way!” Marcus yelled, but not in anger. “Joey, think about it. I could not have asked my brother to do this… nor Gage… or Ady. Hell, who out there could we have asked to give up their life for yours?”

  “S-surely…” Joey started.

  “Surely what? We could have taken it from someone less deserving?” Marcus asked. “The homeless bum out on the street corner? J, that would have been the easy thing to do for sure, but it would not have been the right thing to do. It would have put us on a level so low and so dark that Dajjal would look like Santa Claus in comparison.”

  Joey was hesitant, his head trembling.

  “You know I’m right, Joey!”

  “Yes!” Joey exclaimed, finally letting his tears flow. “I know, I know. It’s selfish.”

  “It’s human,” Marcus said in in a comforting tone, giving Joey a hug. As he spoke, his profound voice coursed through Joey’s body. “Now what did I tell you about crying?”

  Joey reached up and grabbed Marcus’ cap, tossing it to the ground somewhere behind the flowing overgrowth. Above Marcus’ head, a halo hovered for the briefest second before fading away.

  “Back in the courtyard, you told me not to live in fear of what I can’t control.”

  “Yes,” Marcus replied, “and you’ve done amazingly well at that.”

  “I remember that you also told me to focus on enjoying what we have – friends, family, love – while we can.”

  “Exactly. On our way to rescue you, Gage was telling me about life back at the Lodge; how you used to be… what you used to do.”

  Joey turned beet red, wondering what Gage had said.

  “Haha, no need to worry,” Marcus continued. “It wasn’t all that bad. My point is, you’ve come so far since those days and it wasn’t all that long ago. You have the Odyssey now and from what it seems, have managed to give my brother peace of mind. Hell, I bet you’ll even be leading a charge against the Noctis before the end.”

  Joey chuckled through a smile, his redness subsiding before he asked, “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “Oh, I’ve been watching,” Marcus answered coolly

  “Better you than someone else,” Joey said, thinking that it was just his mind’s way of putting himself at ease. Not that he didn’t agree with what dream-Marcus was saying.

  Marcus leaned in and kissed Joey on the forehead before stepping back. He looked out toward the Eastern horizon where the sun had just crested over the distant peaks.

  “Joey this is going to be hard for me to say – like taking an iron spike to my heart – but I need to.”

  Joey didn’t like the sound of that, raising his eyebrows in anticipation while he brushed a few stray hairs out of his eyes.

  “You need to move on with your life,” Marcus told him. “That way you can keep rising and achieve great things, things that you were meant to, without being mired in sadness.”

  “That’s going to take some time…” Joey answered, knowing deep down that it had to be done, but he planned on fighting that truth no matter how long it took.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t expect to be easy. You’ll be able to do wonderful things, Joey Mosely, with whoever comes along.”

  That was it, though. Joey didn’t want anyone else.

  “I think you’ve already sparked someone’s interest,” Marcus continued, and Joey was baffled.

  “Who on Earth are you talking about?” he asked.

  “That Sean guy,” Marcus smirked. “The operative that looks at you sideways all the time.”

  “I… um… what?” Joey stammered. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s attractive…”

  “And tall, rugged, and a bad boy…”

  “Oh come on, now you’re just teasing me!”

  “I wouldn’t blame you,” Marcus laughed. “I bet he has a massive –”

  “Hey!” Joey cut in loudly, sending a flock of inky birds soaring away. “Stop it! Look, I honestly don’t think anyone is going to make me happy anymore. I’ve dealt with a lot of upset, infatuation, and finding you. I don’t think anyone is going to be able to make me any happier than I already was. I wish I could have you back… I don’t want anyone else. Besides, there’s nobody out there that can make shiny candy taste as good as you do.”

  Joey winked and Marcus smiled back at him, his face energized. That was all he needed to hear.

  “Well J, given that I’ll say this: the smallest amount of happiness outweighs the cancer of a lonely heart. Stay strong and vigilant, okay? I want you to know that your dreams, no matter what they are or how farfetched they may be, can still come true…”

  With that said, Marcus vanished in a swirl of feathers and light.

  The deafening sound of flapping wings roused Joey from his sleep, and he sluggishly opened his eyes, taking a deep breath.

  “Gosh, there’s nothing like a chocolate fueled dream to get one’s crazy imagination going,” he said groggily, wiping his eyes, “and make plenty of eye boogers it seems. Note to self: don’t eat that much candy before bed ever again.”

  Stretching his arms overhead, he fiddled with his hair while looking down at the few stray wrappers still on his bed. Hesitantly glancing over to the right, he saw where a veritable mountain of them had formed on the floor.

  “I’ll get to that…” he told himself, letting loose an enormous yawn, “after another little siesta. I think I can weasel out another hour before the sun comes up.”

  Joey turned over to the left, fully prepared to take on that challenge, but before he had settled he saw something that made his heart beat wildly. All traces of fatigue disappeared as he propped himself up, panting, looking at the lone pillow to his side.

  Lying there innocently on top of it was a single feather, white as the driven snow.

  GAGE WATCHED AS the portal to Heaven sealed shut, his parents waving their last goodbyes. Azrael had already left to rejoin his companions on Earth and as Gage looked around, alone once again, the Astral Plane seemed to change into a cold and desolate place. The forest dimmed to an unfriendly blue hue as if there weren’t an ounce of joy left, all of it leached out of the realm alongside the colors. Far in the distance, though likely much closer than it sounded, awful roars from monsters unseen rose above the rumble of thunder.

  Having seen one up close and personal back in Peru, Gage didn’t feel like meeting one of those again. He took off in the opposite direction, feet shuffling along the craggy ground. Catching the odd outcropping which made him stumble, one succeeded at tripping him up. He fell down on a knee, landing with a jolt of pain. Hearing something moving through the far trees, he tended to it quickly, though a tension spread across his chest at the same time. The trees immediately around him began to feel like a coffin and he needed space to breathe. Standing, he darted through the gaps between narrowing tree trunks until, at last, he zipped out from the edge of the forest into a clearing.

  “Ah shit!” Gage yelled, skidding to a halt.

  Though there were no trees, he hadn’t entered a clearing but nearly plummeted over the edge of an extensive canyon. Loose stone continued off and down the sides, disappearing into the churning clouds below. “God, I hate this fucking place!”

  The massive drop off prevented any further progress ahead and so with little choice, Gage waited there for Death to show himself, assuming that he was even coming at all.

  Time was hard to tell in the Astral Plane, and Gage had no idea now long he'd been waiting with his feet hanging off the ledge. The view hadn't been all too bad
, if not monotonous, but he really found himself wishing that something would happen, and soon. Suddenly, there was a crash of branches and leaves behind him.

  The something that Gage had wished for was heading his way… fast.

  In a flash, Gage was on his feet and turning.

  A deafening bellow came from the woods and a monstrous shape shattered the tree line. It looked like a blob of black ink, scurrying toward Gage at breakneck speed. There were countless arms around it, moving like a turbulent ocean as they came snaking toward him with the full intent of holding him, breaking him, violating him. Many hands seized him by the ankles, yanking him down. He hit the rocks hard and would have slid right off the edge had he not been held in their grasp. The arms drug him toward the center mass and he felt a cold rush like ice. His breath fogged, clouding his own vision of his impending demise.

  There was a terrifying shriek, just as a horrific mouth emerged from the bottom of the tangled mess. The cries coming from it were of pain and they came again twice over.

  The creature trembled as its body tore apart, the shreds of black spreading apart to reveal a radiant ball. It looked like a pearl, but was actually the tormented monster’s very soul. Clasped around it were skeletal fingers. They squeezed tightly and the ball cracked like crystal before bursting into a glittering rain that fluttered to the ground.

  Death had come, delivering Gage from his fate once more.

  Panting, the big man kicked away the dead hands that still clung to his legs and robes.

  “About damn time!” he yelled. “Could ya not have shown up five minutes ago, before the psychiatrist’s worst nightmare showed up?”

  Death stayed eerily silent, floating effortlessly. Gage could feel him staring out from beneath his black cowl.

  “You’re always so talkative,” Gage muttered, picking himself up with a grunt. “Yeah, thanks for the helping hand up too; really kind of ya!”

  “The blade…” Death whispered, pointing towards Gage’s empty hands.

  Gage shrugged intensely.

  “Ain't got the Power Sword, Skeletor,” he answered, popping his hands on his hips. “I sorta left it back at DJ’s place before I was booted here.”

  “You still hold onto it …” Death said in a louder, worried tone. “Why have you not called it to your hand?”

  “Wait… are ya telling me that I could have summoned it here this whole time? All because DJ lopped off my arm back on Earth, which sucked by the way, and I was still holdin’ onto the blade at the time?” He paused, wriggling fingers on both hands; it felt great to be able to do that. “If ya weren’t so fucking cryptic, ya could have dropped that little clue when I first got the damn thing! What if Dajjal had nabbed it too?”

  “He cannot detect it,” Death answered, robes billowing in the breeze.

  In the distance, more monsters interrupted the conversation. They were coming, snarls and howls fierce.

  “Oh for cryin’ out loud,” Gage said, holding out his hand. “Any particular magic words or poems I need to say in order to get the…”

  CRACK!

  The machete appeared out of thin air right in Gage’s hand, sizzling and smoking from the journey.

  “Well that was easy,” Gage said with a look of shock. “Damn, I’m good.”

  “Do not be cocky,” Death hissed. “The enemy is such and his ego threatens to be the undoing of all.”

  “Well, not to sound ungrateful for all your help,” Gage said, “but I did end up dead in the first place because of your own brand of mysterious arrogance.”

  Death soared toward him and grabbed the machete right along the sharp blade. It groaned and shifted into its original shape as the reaper held it. If he had flesh, he would certainly be bleeding.

  “Those things happened because I wanted them to happen,” Death said crossly. “They needed to in order for the goal to be achieved. That is what I meant when I told you that in order to see it through, it must first end.”

  Gage spit off the side of the canyon, still unsure what the fuck was going on. With his free hand he swiped his hair then scratched at an itchy spot on the back of his head.

  “You had to die in order for the blade to be wielded at its full potential,” Death clarified. “Passing through the keyhole of mortality and opening the door from the other side to return is not done easily. Yet the pieces were in place, set by me, and now you and the blade have been infused power enough to destroy the other five artifacts and with them, Dajjal.”

  Gage was finally beginning to understand and what he heard made sense. He could feel a newfound power coursing through his veins ever since the machete had shown up in his grip. Yet, some of Azrael’s tale still clung to him like a ravenous tooth fairy.

  Untrusting by nature, Gage knew better than to believe anything he was told at face value without investigating it for himself. The truth always lies in the middle, but the problem with the currently situation is there wasn’t enough time to thoroughly weigh things on the scales.

  “Alright then, Grim,” said Gage, swishing the machete a couple of times in front of him. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Death retreated, pointing a long, bony finger out towards the horizon. Gage did the same and when his arm was fully extended, the blade buzzed. Tiny embers formed along the sharp edge, spitting off like grease in a pan.

  “Now turn the key and return to your body…”

  The wind kicked up, whipping through Gage’s hair and robes. He was just about to twist the blade when he suddenly stopped, looking over his shoulder back at the reaper, who appeared unaffected by the tempest.

  “Wait!” he shouted over the raucous wind. “I ain’t got a body to go back to!”

  “Do not worry, I have taken care of things,” Death replied ominously.

  “Yeah, because hearing that from ya is so reassuring,” Gage said.

  Turning the blade like a key, flames surged from it, creating an entrance in midair. The very sky seemed to split apart and out of the breach came a fantastic rush of light, spiraling out like a tunnel.

  “I better not end up like some damn hillbilly reject!” Gage shouted as he was pulled inside the portal, away from the Astral Plane for what he hoped would be the last time.

  ADRIENNE FINALLY PULLED enough strength, from where she had no clue, to leave the confines of her room – having spent the full extent of daylight hours clutching her pillow while sitting on the floor. She had been accompanied by memories of Gage, still raw and fresh in her mind. The blazing January sun rose, streaming in through the windows as shadows shifted from west to east, until they finally stretched into the darkness of night. She had settled out on the quarterdeck, propped against the port guardrails with a piping hot mug of chamomile tea.

  The tea tasted good, in contrast to the less than satisfying bowl of chicken soup she had earlier in the galley. The conversation more than made up for it, speaking at length with Joey just like the days when they first met. He was in there after a similar, mentally challenging day. He planned to head down to the Deck Four – outside the engine room – to clear his mind, or at least try. For now he sipped on orange juice as she played with little cubes that were allegedly chicken, both recalling vampire clearings in Houston, bacon for breakfast at the Lodge, and the way Gage would tear his pancakes before he ate them.

  “My God, I could have killed you,” Joey said with a mock pout, crossing his arms. “Telling Gage all about the Incursion when you knew I wanted to talk with him. I mean, I thought we had agreed – before you got all gaga over Gage wang – that I was the knowledge base.”

  With a swift kick to Joey’s leg, Adrienne giggled.

  “Yeah, yeah, like I’m the only one that happened to,” she replied. “If you remember, I was innocently tending to his injured ‘leg’ the night before.”

  “Oh my God, is that what he told you about his limp after the clearing?” Joey snickered. “I swear; I never knew if he was coming or going.”

  “Well, you
were barely conscious,” she replied, “but yup, that’s what he said. Gosh, he was certainly an interesting man.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. More like one big, confusing mess.”

  At that Adrienne grinned. She scooped up another spoonful of bland broth, a sliver of noodle floating in it.

  “I… was wondering if he ever told you much about his past?” Joey asked thoughtfully. “I mean; you were the closest to him out of any of us. I only knew bits and pieces of things – the parents and general things about his trucking days. Yet, I never really got to know what made him tick. Not that it matters now, but I can’t shake the feeling that it might have driven some of my infatuation…”

  Joey tried not to blush when he broached the topic, since at the time he really wanted to be loved by the man.

  “He did tell me stories, like his first encounter with Death; it was when I asked him about his tattoos on our road trip to Denver. Beyond that, he was a difficult nut to crack and I really don’t know much more than you do.” Ady chuckled before she continued. “I think that his love for Don’t Fear the Reaper was fairly obvious.”

  “Gosh… that damn ringtone.”

  “Yup! At least when the phone wasn’t haunted,” she said, biting her thumbnail anxiously. “Do you want to know what I think his deal was?”

  “About?”

  “His feelings toward us.”

  “Does a werewolf howl at the moon?” Joey asked eagerly, guzzling the rest of his juice.

  “Well, you and I both know firsthand that Gage is… was… very physical.”

  Joey bobbed his head.

  “I’ve often thought that he didn’t quite know how else to manifest his love,” Adrienne continued, “showing it through his physical abilities more than anything else.”

  “Grunt force,” Joey smirked. “Extra emphasis on the ‘grrr.’ I can definitely see that.”

  “Haha, that’s a good way of putting it,” Adrienne responded. “That’s not to say he didn’t have his moments…”

  She hesitated, the lash of a whip resounding in memory.

  “I know where you’re going with this,” Joey picked up on her behalf, seeing her distress, “because I thought the same thing after getting to know Marcus better. It gave me a different perspective on how I felt about Gage, but also how he felt about me. He must’ve had some issues in his past that he kept well-guarded, something that caused those confusing and conflicted feelings…”