IGMS Issue 1

by IGMS

  Megan deserved to sleep. Through his surgery, through the terrible infection that followed and almost shut down his body, then through the searing chemo, she had never once left him alone in that terrible hospital room. She had suffered with him through each one of his ordeals, getting even less sleep than he. Often it was only her will he felt keeping him alive. And as his medical complications got more complicated, he saw her get more indignant as she challenged incompetent nurses, bullied doctors with her tough questions and demands and forced everyone to fix him or suffer her wrath.

  Many times, coming out of a feverish nightmare, Josh would see Megan's face framed above him like an angel in a vision, and he would take that bright face back with him into his hopelessness, holding it in his hands like a lantern so he could avoid the bullets of pain that shot at him from the darkness and kept him screaming.

  Now that he was home with no sign of cancer and nothing to do but continue to recover, Josh finally saw the toll his illness had taken on Megan. It frightened him, how tired she was. Anyway, he was better off on his own, away from her concern, because what he was feeling now was far worse than all that pain and far more private, and he didn't think she could handle yet another dread.

  So Josh hid from Megan on his night walks. Hid from her faith in happy endings. His illness had taught him that everything is random and that anything could happen and did, but how could he tell Megan that? How could he tell her that although the pain had moved out, his body was now being squatted by something far more sinister.

  Fear.

  That's why he was really roaming the streets tonight, why he liked the night walks so much, why Megan could never know. Josh was scared, so scared that as he trudged along, squinting his eyes past the silver shadows of the trees, he found himself yearning for that same twilight state he had inhabited in the hospital. Anything to block out the fear that was paralyzing him.

  It wasn't that he was afraid of dying. It was that he didn't have either the strength to remain in this world or the courage to leave it. Despite his positive prognosis, Josh just couldn't see himself getting any better, and that meant more pain, and he couldn't handle that. Because he couldn't foresee any happy ending, he was opting for the black oblivion of night.

  He walked on for over an hour, but no matter how much he pleaded for help or shouted for strength or begged for it just to be finally over, the shadows remained shadows, the mist was just mist and the trees did not unfold their branches to the oblivion he sought.

  He noticed Megan open her eyes briefly when he walked in, then close them again. He sat down in a chair and looked at her sleeping.

  They had always been a close couple, even after 10 years of marriage, sharing everything together except the child they had always wanted but couldn't have. Even though the freak nature of his illness had caught them both off guard, tossing them overboard into an sea of panic and hopelessness, they were so much in love that clinging to each other had been their lifeline.

  He knew Megan thought they had been rescued, and he had felt that way too, at least for a while after he was released from the hospital. Now he knew better. And he didn't dare tell Megan about the beast of fear clawing through his chest, undermining even his love for her.

  Looking at her now so peacefully asleep, Josh dared not imagine what her discovering his secrets would do to her, so he wandered into the bathroom, sat down on the edge of the tub and softly cried again.

  Megan was no fool. She knew how long he'd been gone, felt him staring at her as she "slept" on the sofa, and she heard him now sobbing in the bathroom. She knew he was depressed, but she didn't know how to help him. He wouldn't let her help him anymore anyway. It had been different in the hospital where they were both focused on getting him better and out. At home, though, Josh stopped recovering, and she couldn't figure out why.

  Well, until she could figure him out, Megan would do what she did best. She'd turn off the TV, go straight to the bathroom, sit down on the edge of the tub beside him and take him in her arms.

  Later, when Josh had settled down and gone to bed, she took her own night walk, roaming their small house going over and over everything in her mind. Maybe she should start being tougher with him. Being gentle and patient and understanding just wasn't cutting it anymore. Maybe the key to Josh were those night walks of his. Megan decided she'd have to think about that.

  The next night as he put on his coat Megan asked him, "Going on your usual walk?"

  "Uh, yeah, I thought I would," said Josh.

  "It's late, Josh. You be careful, okay?" She said the same thing every night before he left. "I'd go with you, but I'm kind of tired."

  She watched Josh sigh with relief and go out the door. "Bye, then," he said and was gone.

  Megan hurried to the door and watched through the peephole as Josh disappeared down the street. As soon as she thought he was far enough away, she slipped out to follow him.

  Up ahead, she saw Josh gesturing wildly and heard him talking to himself. He could have been the homeless guy who "lived" in the alley by the pharmacy and spent his nights yelling at his blaring radio. But this was her husband. This was Josh, her emotional rock. Dependable Josh. Sturdy Josh. Sweet Josh.

  Suddenly he was gone. Megan scanned the street. The trees stood like sentinels, the darkened houses huddled behind them, their branches stretched across the street to those on the other side in a protective canopy of grey-green. No sign of Josh anywhere. Where was he? Had she lost him? He was right in front of her just a second ago. Which way had he turned?

  Josh hadn't turned. A moment before it happened, he had been talking to the stars. There weren't many to be seen in this city sky, but enough for Josh to remember how vast the universe was and how small he was by comparison. He was just a small speck of nothing. Who or what could possibly care about him or his pain? Josh understood more than ever how alone he was, and he cried out because of the unfairness of it.

  Then he heard a rustling of the branches and the voice of the wind as it brushed his face in a cool caress. The houses retreated. The trees ahead of him took on the shapes of giants, their limbs lowering to the street and then rising high into the sky. Ahead of Josh were colors that he couldn't make out. He walked faster towards the colors. As he drew closer, he could hear the babble of soothing voices beneath the wind. He felt his chest release its pent-up fear and for the first time in ages he felt free. He thought he heard a voice summoning him.

  "I'm here," said Josh. "I'm here."

  Josh thought he saw human figures walking quietly just behind the trees. The swaying branches turned this way and that and obscured the view. When he was able to see past them again, the figures were gone. The babble returned in a symphony of wind and swaying branches. Then the wind died down, and he heard Megan's voice behind him.

  What was Megan doing here?

  "There you are," he heard her say. "I was worried, so I came looking for you. I guess I didn't realize how unfamiliar everything can look at night. You were right in front of me, but I couldn't see you at all."

  Josh wasn't listening to her. "I saw something. I was almost there."

  "Almost where?" Megan said.

  Josh turned to Megan and suddenly frowned. "You shouldn't have followed me," he snorted. "And I'm not through with my walk yet." He headed away from her briskly, hearing her call after him.

  "Can I come, too, Josh? Hey wait up!"

  But Josh was already turning the corner. He had to get away from her. Why did she have to choose tonight of all nights to go out looking for him? Didn't she know she had ruined everything? Maybe if he hurried he could find the figures again and this time make them understand how much he needed to find out what they wanted.

  He came home an hour later, exhausted by the useless search. Yet, for the first time in months he felt excited and hopeful. He knew that answers were somewhere in those shadows and he would look every night if he had to until he found them again.

  He saw that Megan was already aslee
p. He felt guilty for running away from her. He knew he had hurt her terribly. The crumpled tissues on the floor by her side of the bed told him that she had been crying. He undressed and slipped into bed beside her. She didn't stir. He spoke to her back.

  "I'm so sorry, babe. I know I can't explain how I'm feeling right now. I can't seem to sort anything out. But tonight was the first time I've felt some hope about all this, you know? Like the road ahead might not do me in after all. I'll know soon, I promise. I can feel it. Just give me some time."

  He wasn't that surprised when Megan turned around to face him, her face puffy and concerned.

  "Josh, you scared me tonight," she said.

  "I know," said Josh.

  "What were you doing out there?"

  He couldn't tell her. Not yet.

  "Just night walking, that's all," he said as he held her close and planned a route for tomorrow night.

  The new route wasn't necessary though. The next night, it happened only a block away from his house. One minute he was hurrying down the sidewalk, eager to explore a new neighborhood, the next minute all sense of his own street was consumed by the groves of silver trees, the swirling colors and the sound of voices.

  This time, Josh was able to pass the sentinel trees easily and found himself in a small clearing where the colors melded with a soft grass and the surrounding woods. He breathed in the rush of wind, felt himself relaxing.

  Suddenly everything went silent and still. Heads peered out from the trees. Then, a few ghostly people cautiously stepped toward him. An old woman, a man in a wheelchair, a pregnant lady, an emaciated woman in a turban, another in a hospital gown, several men in uniform, a little boy with a cough, a girl holding a teddy bear. All of them were barely visible, as if in a faded painting. All moved slowly, all held out their arms to Josh.

  Those closest to him began murmuring something under their breath. "Solace. Solace."

  The words were picked up by the others. Josh now recognized the phrase from the night before.

  Suddenly the turbaned woman had her fingers on Josh's neck. Her nails dug into his skin. Her other hand climbed up to his face and turned it towards her.

  For an endless moment, Josh was caught in the agony written on the woman's face. And something else he saw there that surprised him: hungry eyes like pits, so black that the darkness oozed out of them and dripped down her face like old mascara.

  Josh was about to pull away when the woman released her grip. "No solace here," she said as she dropped her arms and slumped away. She looked terribly lost, and her wailing was the sound of loneliness.

  Pity overcame Josh's fear. He tried to embrace the woman, but she backed away and shrieked even louder. The wary expressions of interest on the faces of others close to him also faded away. The rest of them began to wail or call out for help.

  The men in uniform screamed softly as if they had just been mortally wounded and were sinking into shock. Josh caught one of them as he swayed and fell to the ground, but the man crawled away from him and kept up his lament.

  The little girl made short clipped cries and reached out her hands to Josh even though she wouldn't take his hug.

  The turbaned lady kept repeating, "No-no-no-no-no-no," in a spooky sort of round, dancing past Josh whenever he approached her.

  Josh felt more helpless with these phantoms than he ever felt for himself. The sound of their eerie cries was ripping him apart. "No solace here," they chanted between their bouts of anguish, as Josh kept turning from grief to grief, rejection to rejection, around and around, consumed with the power of the people's sadness, yet unable to help them, until his only choice was to join them. Lifting up his arms, and addressing the stars, he wailed in anguish too, while the others, oblivious to his pain, continued to revel in their own.

  At first, Megan was guardedly optimistic about the change in Josh. It had happened too quickly. One morning he woke up and seemed to be his old self. The strain on his face was less evident, and soon he was even whistling in the shower. He seemed to fall back into his pre-hospital routine. He read the paper again each morning, asked what he could do around the house, went grocery shopping with her and even talked about going back to work. Megan's caution quickly turned to gratitude. The disability payments would stop soon, and she hadn't known where the money would come from.

  Best of all, though, was the afternoon when he crept up behind her, nuzzled her neck, turned her to him and kissed her tenderly. It was the first time he had wanted something more than pity or protection from her, and it felt so wonderful to feel safe in his arms for a change. Look at who's crying now, she thought as he moved down her body and her tears wetted his hair.

  His night walks still bothered her though. Sometimes he seemed almost restless until the appointed hour. Their renewed intimacy was relegated mostly to mornings, and she could feel the distance in his affection for her grow with every hour after dinner until it seemed to evaporate several hours later into total neglect.

  "What do you do out there for so long?" she asked him one night after he returned.

  "Nothing much, I guess," he said. "I think a lot. I work through stuff while I'm walking. I'm better when I come back, right? So it must be good for me. Better than therapy, right babe?"

  Megan wasn't so sure about that. And as the days went by, Josh's vibrancy began deflating like a slow-leaking balloon. His ennui began to swallow up his days as well as his nights. His whistling stopped, the papers went unread again. He stayed on his walks longer and longer and then wandered the house restlessly until early morning. He slept most of the day, and when he arose he seemed to float through the afternoon. His body clock seemed to be geared solely to his night walks. He would come alive at dusk like some vampire, his energy static and unharnessed but growing in intensity towards the appointed hour. There was no room for anything else, not even for her.

  Once after dinner, something about the look of Josh as he sat in his favorite chair with a distracted stare made Megan remember the night when he had suddenly disappeared in front of her. That moment had scared her more than any other in his illness. The night had simply swallowed him up, and the emptiness she felt, if only for a few seconds, was more final than anything she had ever experienced. It struck here that the night was swallowing him up again, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Josh knew he was in trouble but he didn't seem to care. At first, the release he experienced each night as he joined the others in their mysterious chorus of pain was exhilarating, and he came home feeling renewed and more sure of his recovery than he had in a long time.

  He called his new companions "sufferers."

  At first he had been repulsed by their ritual, but he soon discovered it was an addiction he craved himself. By joining in their cries of torment, mingling his screams with theirs, he unleashed such a searing agony within himself that it didn't seem to go away any more. He carried it through the next day like a heavy stone and craved the next round of release.

  Once a night was not enough any more.

  One night, as he watched the sufferers move sadly away, he began to feel an overpowering urge to walk with them. Where did they go when they left him? Why couldn't he go with them when they moved on? Were there other groves where others like himself were waiting for the sufferers to appear?

  That's what he secretly hoped for. More sufferers. More groves. More release. He couldn't contain his pain any longer. It was a torrent that was drowning him, and the ritual of the sufferers was his only rescue.

  The first time he tried to walk with the sufferers, the grove shuddered and fled, and he came to himself sprawled on the sidewalk pavement. Other attempts met with similar results. He thought of nothing else all day but how he might follow them.

  One night during the ritual, he screamed with frustration as much as in agony of soul. Immediately he felt a wrenching inside of him. When the sufferers stopped suddenly and began to disperse, he knew instinctively that he could go with them.

 
They moved into the woods. Josh moved with them. There, he was surrounded by the restless colors. One step counted for ten. He walked on wings of agony. He saw another clearing through the giant trees. He peered around a trunk and saw a man whimpering in confusion and walking in useless circles in the middle of the clearing.

  Josh was suddenly hungry. He saw the scars on the man's face and arms, and his appetite for pain grew ravenous. He circled the man, stalking him. It was a hunt, and the man was his prey. He weaved himself closer to the man and felt an overpowering urge to tear his flesh. He heard himself asking the man, "Solace? Solace?"

  Josh's arms gripped the man's bony shoulders. The man raised his head and Josh found himself locking eyes with empty sockets. The blind man was sobbing and pleading. "Help me, please."

  The other sufferers were chanting now and entering the clearing. Josh didn't know why the man seemed suddenly repulsive, but a sudden loathing welled up in his throat and drowned his earlier pity. "No solace here," Josh said to no one in particular as he turned away.

  "No solace here," the sufferers repeated.

  This time, Josh began the ritual wailing, climaxing in a scream at the top of his lungs. The burning in his chest exploded. The sightless man fell to the ground and screamed and screamed and so did Josh and so did the sufferers.

  It was over too soon, and the pack of sufferers moved on, restless and unsatisfied.

  Josh moved on too, more empty than ever, with eyes on the lookout for prey.

  Megan awoke to a man on the television selling a juice maker. It was 2:00 a.m. She had fallen asleep on the sofa again waiting up for Josh. She went into the bedroom, only Josh wasn't there. She began pacing at 2:15, was truly frightened by 2:30 and spent the next hour between walks down their sidewalk looking for any sign of Josh and sitting by the phone. At 3:30, she decided to get in the car and search for him. If she couldn't find him herself, she would call the police. She drove the darkened streets of her neighborhood for another hour or so. It was just before dawn when she got really angry.