In Silent Graves

by Gary A Braunbeck

  The clerk answered the phone and then, without looking at any of the covers, tossed the pile onto the counter. Robert grabbed Time and the new Columbus Monthly and left. Hopefully the clerk hadn’t seen the cover of the Monthly.

  Still, he’d really been looking at Robert’s face for a moment....

  Room 207 was on the left side of the second building. Only one other vehicle—a shiny pickup with a gun rack and a Pacers bumper sticker—was parked on this side of the building, four doors down.

  Robert backed the Jeep into the parking space, then unlocked the room and left the door open.

  Checking to make sure no one was coming from either side, he opened the hatch, and Sephera jumped down. They removed the hand-cart and took it into the room. Untying the harness straps, they moved Denise onto the bed nearest an electrical outlet and hooked up the respirator. Then Robert brought Suzy and the cats inside.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked, closing the door and engaging the dead-bolt.

  Sephera looked at him and shook her head.

  Robert made a quick check of everything and discovered that the door leading to the right-side adjoining room had a broken lock and would not close all the way. At least the other door was securely locked. He’d have to keep an eye on that.

  Standing behind Sephera, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “What happens now?”

  “Nothing you can help with, so do me a flavor—whoa. A flavor?”

  Robert grinned. “Denise used to say that a lot.”

  “Well, it’s a first for me. Keep the cats in their carriers a little while longer, okay? I put a can of kitty treats on the night stand. Suzy’s fallen asleep again, so that’s something.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and folded her hands. “I need for you to go sit on the other side of the room and be quiet, all right?”

  Something caught in his throat. “So th-this is...this is it?”

  “This is it.”

  He stared at Denise and was stunned by the depth of affection he felt toward her. It didn’t matter what she looked like; she was his true love. His heart ached with the thought of how she must have felt all these years, isolated within her glass-walled prison. Even with the connections to the other women she’d created from herself, she must have longed to experience something first-hand. Like this—had she ever wished, even once, briefly, that she could feel herself be held like this, as she truly was?

  “I can’t...I can’t do this just yet.”

  Sephera opened her eyes and glared at him. “Sit down, Robert.”

  “No.” He pushed her aside and gently sat on the side of the bed. He touched the side of Denise’s face, and she opened her eyes. There was such need in them, such pain; her eyes reflected intimate knowledge of a loneliness so profound Robert could not begin to imagine it.

  “Robert...,” whispered Sephera impatiently.

  “No, not yet. Stand over there and leave us for a minute.”

  “But—”

  “Do it!” He was shocked at the violence in his voice. Sephera moved away from the bed, her eyes shooting bullets into Robert’s back.

  He turned on the bedside light so as to see every detail of her face clearly, then leaned down and—as best he could without jostling the respirator tubes—kissed her cheek, her eyes, her forehead, and then slid one arm under her back, and draped the other one across her center.

  “Listen to me, my love: This guy’s involved in a terrible traffic accident, right? Totals his car and breaks both his arms and crushes one of his legs. He comes to in the hospital later on and the doctor’s standing at the foot of his bed looking really upset. ‘What’s wrong?’ asks the guy. ‘Well,’ says the doctor, ‘I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is that we amputated the wrong leg.’ ‘And the good news?’ the guys asks. Then the doctor looks at him and says, ‘The good news is that you’re bad leg’s getting much better.’”

  Denise made a sudden crackling sound from deep inside her throat.

  “Jesus,” said Sephera, coming closer. “Is she choking?”

  “No,” said Robert, slowly working at the tape around the respirator tube. “She’s laughing. I never told her that joke. I always meant to.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “The chest in her tube will be able to keep her breathing for a few minutes, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Please go away.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Go. A. Way.”

  He finished working the tape loose, then gently and quickly pulled the tube from her throat. She tried opening her mouth but the gummed mucus had hardened in several places, making it almost impossible. She exhaled a slow, ragged breath, filling the air between her face and Robert’s with the scent of an ancient rose suddenly released from the vase where it had been sealed five thousand years ago. Unlike the man in the story Siempre told the Prince, Robert did know the gift of the rose; he pulled her breath into him, savoring it, recognizing it for the treasure that it was, one that had existed since the beginning of time only for this day, this place, this moment: he took it in and felt his weary heart both awaken and sorrow, but there was grace here, and glory, and the true beauty which comes from time’s gift of perfect humility.

  “Thank you,” he said, touching her cheek, then her lips. “All my life you have loved me unconditionally. You’re the only person who ever did, and I’m sorry that it took me until now to realize that. Imperfect as I am, you loved me without question.” With his thumb he wiped away a small tear from her right eye. “I’ll never be able to put into words what you’ve meant to me. I was an idiot, Denise. I was afraid to lift my head and look up from the world because I was sure the light would hurt my eyes, because that’s what dreams did to a person; they hurt. And the brighter the dream, the deeper the pain when you couldn’t reach it.” He rested his head next to hers on the pillow, whispering in her ear. “But I can do that now, because of you. I can look into the light and not be hurt by what it shows me. I understand what you’ve tried to say to me, and I do despair, but I know that my despair is also my strength, and I can be strong now, my love. I can hear the voices and laughter of the people from my past and not crumble inside from regret. I can remember everything good and bad and know that each was necessary.” He kissed her cheek, her eyes, her chin. “I now know that a man can grow old without giving up the songs and laughter and summer afternoons of calliope music and back-lot baseball games that make childhood eternal. I promise you, I swear to you, that I will protect the children of Chiaroscuro with everything I have. There will be no more sorrow for them, no more pain. I can do this because I am strong now, you gave me the ability to see that.” He traced her lips with his index finger. “I wish I could have known you as you were when we first met. But I was not the same then. You have changed me. And I will love you forever because of that.” He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Right now, at this moment, I think you are the most beautiful woman ever to grace this world, and I am honored to hold you in my arms. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for giving me to myself, and for sharing my life. I want you to know how much I love just as you are at this second: I have never loved anyone more. You are the dream in the light; you are my heart and spirit; you are the gift of the rose.”

  Despite the obvious pain of the effort, Denise tried to smile but could not, and so simply gave a short, slow nod.

  Robert wet his lips and lowered his head. It was the softest, tenderest kiss he’d ever given or received, and he never wanted it to end. Denise lifted her arm and placed her hand on the back of his head. No jeweled crown could ever feeler grander.

  Then her chest hitched and she began to sputter and cough. Grabbing Robert’s hair, she pulled his face away as something thick and black spattered down her chin.

  Sephera yanked Robert from the bed and shoved him to the floor, sat beside Denise, cupped her face in her hands, and pressed their foreheads together.

  Robert watche
d from the floor as the Transference took place.

  The atmosphere thrummed. Denise and Sephera became less corporeal.

  The world proceeded backward, forward, downward, sideways.

  Denise was there/not there.

  Sephera was whole/incomplete.

  They were both children/old women at the edge of life’s final breath.

  Denise was alone/a succession of ghosts.

  They were whole/other women, some older, some younger, each dimly visible, each more diaphanous than the last.

  ...one used a walker, one didn’t; one wore tattered clothes that looked to have been purchased at a Goodwill store while the next was adorned in sable and pearls; after her, so confident and healthy that her bloom was still visible, another women, younger than the others, laughed with sparkling energy, her eyes filled with mischief and wonder; the next woman, pitiful and emaciated, shambled slowly forward, brittle hands knotted against aged, sagging breasts, eyes unfocused, lines on her face harshened by shadows and age spots; sauntering dreamily behind her...

  The Transference continued.

  The world became another world looking into another world that shifted and changed and faded into shadows to be replaced by another, firmer, possible world. There were children laughing, playing, growing old, dying, turning to ashes, blowing away with the snow; there were trees growing, toppling, rotting, turning to ashes, blowing away; mountains rose and crumbled before his eyes, and with them races of beings so hideous and fantastic Robert nearly wept at the sight. He was back at the house, an old and bitter man, broken by grief, yet he also stood across from this old man, young and alive and bright-eyed at the Possibilities; the two of them met each other in the middle of the room, whispered, “Denise” and became one, grew even younger, became shrunken and pink-cheeked, an infant vanishing back into the womb of its mother who spun back into time and vanished.

  He thought he would be lost here forever, shifting, turning, rising, falling, becoming old and young at once, a babe and an invalid, longing for her touch, her voice, her laugh, then he felt Sephera’s hand grab his shoulders and shake him and—

  —and he was rooted firmly in the moment, this moment, on his ass on the floor in a motel room somewhere outside Montrose, Indiana.

  “Robert? It’s okay now. I’m here, it’s over.”

  He blinked several times, then looked up into Sephera’s shadowed face. She looked no different than before; same full lips, same black-dyed hair, same nose and cheekbones and—

  —her eyes.

  He looked into her eyes and saw all of them: Penny, Amy, Linda, Yvonne, Tracy...but most of all, Denise: his love, the prism, the rose.

  “Denise?”

  She parted her hands. “Ta-da!”

  At once he ached for her. He jumped up and took her in his arms, holding her against him so tightly the flesh of their cheeks burned from the friction as he pulled his face around to kiss her. She grasped his back, her nails digging in. They both breathed heavily through their noses, not wanting their lips to be apart. His hands explored her body. She rubbed against him. His flicked his tongue against her lips and she responded by opening her mouth and slipping the tip of her tongue against his, then ramming it in so deep and hard he nearly chocked. She slid her hand between his legs as he reached under her blouse and bra and squeezed her breast, then began tracing slow circular pattern over her areola, growing more excited as he felt her nipple engorge. She squeezed his hardening cock and gave a low moan of pleasure, then pulled at his shirt from his pants and ran her hands up to his chest underneath. He worked at the buttons of her blouse; at first with the clumsiness of a virginal schoolboy, then with the skilled hands of a life-long lover. She began to unzip him. Her blouse fell open and he pulled his face away from hers, running his mouth wetly down her neck until he reached her exposed breast and took her hot nipple in his mouth, flicking it, sucking it, licking it, tongue and teeth in perfect play. Her soft moaning then became a louder shriek of pleasure as she gripped the back of his head with her left hand while her right unbuckled his belt and pulled it free. Robert moved his mouth from one breast to the other, trailed his tongue to the sweet bowl between her clavicles and up the sweaty ridge of her throat to her chin. She shuddered against him, her moans growing longer, deeper, louder. She unsnapped his pants. He took her tongue into his mouth. She pushed him backward until he was pressed against the wall. This was crazy. They shouldn’t be doing this, he knew, but was possessed by a wrenching hunger for her. He managed to pull his head back and took a breath through his mouth, feeling the sweat soaking his back. “We...ohgod...we can’t...we shouldn’t....” “Shhh,” she said, placing a finger damp with his juices against his lips. “I need to...don’t you...mmmmm, don’t stop...don’t you remember what day it is?” “...no...I...” She kissed him, then smiled and said, “Happy anniversary, Robert.” And then he remembered. Their first anniversary, right after she’d given him the watch. They’d gone at each other just like this, standing up in the living room, and she’d pushed him against the wall and said, “Let’s see if that...”

  “...treadmill’s doing you any good,” she finished now. His pants were around the middle of his thighs and she’d worked her underwear off. Hooking one arm around his shoulder as she bent her right leg and tucked it under his elbow, she stroked his erection for a moment and then took him inside of her. They fought each other’s speed and rhythm for a moment, a delicious, teasing war of desire that had both of them at a screaming pitch in seconds. Robert pressed himself hard against the wall and bent his legs, then drove himself up deeper inside her, wanting to bury himself up to her throat. The force of their coupling shook the wall; a painting hanging near them began to bounce against the imitation paneling; the edge of the television stand smacked against the wall; and the door which led to the adjoining room clicked slowly open, though neither of them saw or heard it. It swung inward and was stopped from opening farther by the next door.

  Denise moved her hips faster, plunging against him, sighing, growling, her face glistening with sweat, the joy of it making them both cry out as he grew bigger and she wetter, sliding down, then up, faster, so much heat between their bodies, and she pressed her hand against the wall and drove herself down onto him and Robert threw back his head and closed his eyes and felt himself explode inside of her, felt her own orgasm shudder through her body in sweet, hard, merciless waves as both of them came, their juices running down the insides of their legs as she groaned and he cried out and they began a slow, hot, moist slide down the wall to the floor where she fell against him and, just as it had happened on their first anniversary, they rolled to the side, her leg still draped over his, their bodies covered in heavy rivulets of sweat.

  As their breathing slowed, Denise ran a finger down the length of his nose, then gently flicked its tip as if ridding it of a mosquito. “Well, hello you.”

  “Hello yourself. God...I can’t believe this.”

  “Believe it,” she said, then kissed him again before moving her leg and slowly, with one last shuddered and sigh, slipping his cock from inside her.

  “Think you can get yourself into that chair by the dresser?”

  “...think I can manage that.”

  “Go on, then. There’s something we’ve got to do while there’s still time.”

  They fixed their clothes. Robert staggered to the chair and sat down. He saw his reflection in the chipped and dingy mirror and laughed. He was a mess. A wonderful mess. He scratched his neck and, as he pulled his hand down, felt the piece of paper in his shirt pocket. He removed, unfolded it.

  And there was her handwriting: Send me a picture of the daughter we never had....

  He suddenly went cold as the echo of an unanswered question came back to him. He slipped the note into a corner of the mirror where he could see the words, then turned in the chair and looked at her.

  The weight of the question made his stomach twist. “Are you my daughter?”

  She smiled at him.
“Only at the level of the flesh. Your seed helped to create this body.”

  “OhGod...” Robert felt like he was going to throw up.

  “Hang on, you’re stronger than that.” She lifted her blouse, exposing her creamy skin. “Do you see an autopsy scar?”

  “No.”

  She lowered the blouse back in place. “I needed a body that was equal parts human and Hallower. There was no other way. But if you’re thinking that some part of me might be Emily...no. She never lived to breathe in existence. Feel better now?”

  He nodded his head.

  “Good. Now don’t make a sound. If this is too much for you, look away.” She turned and reached into the dead, deformed, mutilated body on the bed, her hands passing through its bloated belly as if into water. When she pulled them out, they held a small, bloody, perfectly-formed fetus.

  The body on the bed began to deteriorate, its flesh discoloring, becoming semi-liquid, falling from bone, staining the bed, trickling to the floor. The stench was strong but not overpowering. That would come later, causing the first police officer to enter the room to whirl around, drop to his knees, and vomit.

  But for now, it was a sickly-sweet stench of something old and decaying.

  Robert looked away. Denise placed the infant body on the bureau, then picked up the medical bag and opened it. “I don’t know how much farther we’ll have to travel or how long it’s going to take, but your face has to go, my love.” She removed a small glass vial and a hypodermic needle.

  Robert stared at the needle. “What are you going to do?”

  “Collagen for your lips and cheeks.” She set the hypodermic aside. “Dr. Steinman told you the truth: fetal tissue is the perfect transplant material. It bonds instantly and the body won’t reject it.” She looked at the infant. “This first part has to be done the messy way—the human way, I’m afraid. The rest of it will be as the Archons did when they assisted in the creation of Adam.” She scooped some placenta off the corpse, licked it, and held the rest out to Robert. “Eat this.”