by Amy Cross
“You've got a human body,” I point out.
“And you really think I'll just die so conveniently?”
“I think it'll take you a while to get back up to speed,” I reply, “and a while for you could mean thousands of years down here, so it's worth a shot. By the time you're ready to try something again, it might be too late. Either way, I'll be buying humanity some time until you can swing back around.” Staring at him, I realize I can see fear in his eyes, which is enough to make me think that this is worth a try. Pressing the lighter against his gasoline-soaked clothes, I place my thumb on the igniter.
“You'll die too, Clay,” he whispers. “The pain...”
“I'll come back.”
“Maybe not. Maybe if I'm gone, you'll finally die too. You're linked to me. Without me, you might be nothing.”
“You're such an optimist,” I tell him. “I never asked to keep bouncing back to life. Anyway, who knows? Maybe I'll finally ascend to that higher level of consciousness everyone keeps banging on about?”
“Then do it,” he replies. “Go on, Clay. I dare you.”
I wait a moment, and finally I realize that I'm scared. He's right: this really might be the end. Then again, if I have to go, taking a god with me seems like a decent way to do it.
“Just as I thought,” he continues with a smile. “You won't go through with it. Face it, Clay, you're just human. Now let's stop this foolishness, fix these broken bodies of ours, and then -”
I flick the lighter.
His eyes widen.
For a fraction of a second, as the flames roar across our bodies, I can see the look of shock on his face. He lets out a cry of pain, not just any scream but the scream you'd expect from a god who never thought he'd have to experience true pain. As the inferno rips through my body, I watch Attaroth pulling back, and when he turns away from me I get a glimpse of his face in the heart of the fire, with his skin already starting to fall away. Light seems to be rising from his shoulders, as if he's trying to escape his body, but the flames seem to be too strong and the light is pulled back down, causing him to let out a horrifying shriek of anger and agony. He lashes out and stumbles a few paces before dropping to the ground. I turn to watch more, but the flames are now filling my vision and my eyes are burning up.
Looking up at the sky, I begin to scream as I feel my body being consumed by fire. I turn to crawl away, but finally I slump down, unable to move another inch as the flames tear through my flesh. The strangest thing is that although I'm in agony, I can somehow detach myself from all the pain, even though I can still hear Attaroth's screams. I thought I'd have lost consciousness by now, but for several minutes I stay completely still, feeling my body continue to burn as Attaroth's cries finally fade out. He's dead, and maybe I'll finally be dead soon too. Either that or I'll wake up again, with my body restored and nowhere to go. Still, if Attaroth is gone, I won't have to keep running. All I can do is hope for peace, as the flames tear through my brain and bring light to my fears, obliterating everything in a wall of bursting energy.
Ten years ago
“Hello?” I call out, still sitting by the desk in the priest's office. “Are you there?”
I listen, but all I hear is silence. It's been a few minutes since I last heard his voice, so I figure he must be finished talking on the phone. So far, however, he hasn't come back to me, and my stomach is starting to rumble again. I just want some more food, and I can see cookie packets over on the far end of the desk. I know I shouldn't take them without asking, but I don't think the priest would mind and besides, I'm so hungry I don't think I can control myself.
“Hello?” I call out again. “Do you mind if I take some cookies?”
Silence.
“Is it okay?”
Silence.
I guess he doesn't mind, then.
Getting up from the chair, I make my way around the desk. I glance at the door one more time, to make sure that no-one's watching me, and then I take one of the packets and start opening the top. As I slip the first cookie out and start to eat it, all I can think about is the fact that my belly is aching with hunger. I tell myself I'll only eat one or two, but after five I realize that I could easily eat the whole packet. I look over at the door again, just to be absolutely certain that the priest hasn't come back yet, and then I turn and -
“Greedy little pig.”
Spinning back around to face the door, I see to my horror that Attaroth is smiling at me from out in the corridor. In his bloody left hand, he's holding something red and mushy, which he raises for me to see.
“The priest's heart was in the right place,” he says, turning the object around before dropping it and letting it splat against the floor, “so I removed it.”
Backing away toward the window, I look around, hoping to find something I can use against him.
“I hope those precious few minutes of freedom taught you a valuable lesson,” he tells me. “You can't run, Clay. No matter how far you get, no matter how you manage to delude yourself into believing that you've slipped away from me, you have no chance whatsoever. Come on, let's get going. Your training must begin.”
I turn and look out through the closed window. There are people outside, walking along the street, completely oblivious to everything that's happening in here.
“Call out to them,” Attaroth continues. “Go on, you might as well. They can hear you now. When you die, it takes a little while after you return before you properly stick to the world again. So call them. They'll come running in, and I'll do to them what I did to the priest. Face it, Clay. Anyone you turn to for help is going to end up dead. From this moment on, you just bring misery to the world. Without me, you'll always be completely alone.”
Reaching up, I turn the latch and then I struggle to get the window open. It's almost too heavy, but finally I prop it up and lean outside.
“Don't be foolish,” Attaroth says. “Clay, get away from there.”
Convinced that he'll hurry into the room and grab me at any moment, I climb up onto the ledge. When I look back at the door, however, I realize that Attaroth is still out there in the corridor, almost as if for some reason he can't just come and get me. And that's when I remember:
“Attaroth can only pass through closed doors,” Mr. Kenseth told me once. “He can't go through a door that's open.”
“Clay,” Attaroth says firmly, “this has gone far enough. If you're ever going to stand a chance of being my first disciple, you're going to have to come with me right now so I can start training you. There's really no other way to go.”
“No,” I tell him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You can't get me if there's an open door between us,” I reply, trying not to let him hear that I'm terrified. “As long as there are no closed doors in the way, you can't get to me.”
“Clay, I'm getting tired of this childishness,” he says with a sigh. “You can't spend the rest of your life avoiding closed doors -”
“Yes I can,” I reply, interrupting him.
He sighs again.
“I can,” I tell him, “and even if I can't do it forever, I can do it for now.”
“You're making a mistake,” he continues. “A big, childish mistake. Do you have any idea how much you're angering me right now? Get over here and let me teach you how to be a good disciple. I'm offering you the chance to really make a name for yourself as the first truly blessed follower of Attaroth in the modern age. The rewards will be spectacular.”
I shake my head.
“You're not this stupid,” he adds. “I know you're not, Clay. You're a smart girl. You can't possibly believe that you can defy me. Maybe you can keep away from closed doors for a while, maybe you can keep running fast enough for me not to find a way to get to you, but eventually you'll be trapped and I'll get my hands on you again. It might take a week, a month, a year, maybe even a couple of years, but I will get hold of you and the longer it takes, the angrier I'll be.”
�
��I don't care,” I tell him. “I won't be your disciple.”
“You sound almost grown up.”
“Leave me alone,” I say firmly.
“Then I suppose I'll have to teach you this lesson the hard way,” he replies. “Go on, Clay. If this is really what you want to do, give it a shot. Run.”
I pause, willing myself to get out of here but terrified in case my plan fails.
“Go on,” he continues with a smile. “Make your pathetic little stand, see if I care.”
“I...”
Pausing, I realize it's now or never.
Turning and jumping out through the window, I land on my feet and stumble for a moment before picking up speed. Without even looking back, I start running.
Epilogue
After pulling the door shut, I stop for a moment and listen to the silent house. There's no sign of anyone, no hint of movement, nothing to suggest that there's another soul anywhere nearby.
“Aaron?” I call out.
Silence.
Making my way across the kitchen, I can't help but notice dirty dishes piled in the sink, along with discarded food packets left all over the table and the floor. He's clearly too sick to clean up, but it also looks as if he's been eating recently, which is a good sign. As I head through to the hallway, however, I can't help wondering if I'm too late. Maybe I won't get a chance to say goodbye.
“Aaron?”
Silence.
When I reach the door to the bedroom, I look through and see him on the bed. He's completely still, and for a moment I'm convinced that it's over, until he finally turns his head just a little and looks straight at me.
“Clay?” he whispers.
“Hey,” I reply, heading into the room and sitting next to him. I take a half-full glass of water from the bedside table and bring it to his lips, helping him to drink. “I told you I'd come back,” I add. “I always keep my word.”
He starts coughing, so I set the glass back down and gently pat his back, hoping to help.
“You...” He pauses, clearly unable to get more than a few words out at a time. “You're here... sooner than I... expected...”
“I had a change of plan. I've been...” I pause for a moment, actually considering telling him everything. Who I am, why I started coming to see him, all the business with Attaroth, even the flames and the... “I've been busy,” I say finally. “A lot has changed since the last time I saw you.”
“Still running?”
“No. Are you hungry?”
“I can't eat,” he replies. “It hurts too much.”
“Are you still taking your pills?”
“They don't do anything. It's...” He reaches out and takes my hand, and I'm shocked by the frailty of his grip. His fingers are like thin-skinned bones, and it's clear that he's close to the end. “I'm glad you didn't leave it any longer,” he whispers.
“Me too.”
Making my way around the bed, I climb on and – after brushing some crumbs and other detritus out of the way – I settle next to him. He rolls over to look at me, gasping in pain until he finally gets into position.
“I wish you...”
He pauses, as if he's struggling to breathe.
“You wish I what?” I ask.
“I wish you could... stay until...”
“I can.”
“It might -”
“However long it takes,” I continue. “Even if it's more than one night, I promise I'll stay until the end.”
“You don't have to,” he replies, “not... not if it puts you in danger.”
“Don't worry,” I tell him. “I'll stay. I told you, things are different now. Something was holding onto me but it's gone now. It released me.”
Leaning forward, I kiss his forehead.
“Clay,” he whispers. “I don't... The cancer, I... I've done some bad things in my life. I never told you, but once, a decade ago, I -”
“It's okay,” I reply, putting an arm around him. “Don't be scared.”
“She'll be waiting for me,” he continues. “When I go to hell, she'll... She'll be there.”
“No,” I tell him, “she won't.”
“But -”
“She won't.” I kiss his forehead again, before wrapping my arms around him and holding him tight. “It's okay, Aaron. Trust me. You don't need to be scared.”
He tries to say something, but the effort is clearly too much. He's even closer to the end than I realized when I entered the room.
“Don't be scared,” I continue, placing my cheek against the top of his head as I feel his body starting to tremble. “When you finally, finally get to the other side, it's...” I pause for a moment, staring into space, remembering that moment after the flames. “When you finally die, you don't need to be scared. You might even get to come back one final time, if there's something really really important that you feel you have to do.” With tears in my eyes, I kiss the top of his head. “It's not scary at all, not once you've finally done it. And on the other side... I don't think there are words to describe it, it's just...”
My voice trails off as I remember the light that burst out of the flames.
I stay there on the bed with him, listening to him as his breathing becomes increasingly shallow. Finally, after a few minutes, he stops altogether and his body falls completely still. I don't move. I just wait, listening to the sound as I breathe in and out, in and out, in and out.
And then silence.