by Tobias Wade
“What are you doing?” Jessica shouts. “Stop taunting her!”
“You can do it, can’t you?” The frenzy of his words makes Dantes look as strained as Jordan now. The tendons in his neck are bulging as he roars: “Make me open the door and jump, just like you did to your daughter.”
Mackenzie’s face goes slack. Jordan takes a sudden gasp and collapses to his knees, heaving for breath.
“You can’t though, can you?” Dantes asks, hands still on the red handle. “You couldn’t keep it dark and stay inside Jordan’s head. You can’t control the captain without us stopping you, and you can’t take me without Jordan turning on you. Only one at a time, am I right?”
Mackenzie’s face is feral. Then slack, then terror, expressions cycling through one another so quickly that her face is a perpetual caricature of herself.
“You couldn’t have made me jump,” Jessica’s mouth is working, her mind blank, the words not processing until she hears herself say them aloud.
“It had to be done. Ender never would have gone to Azgangi if you hadn’t,” Mackenzie’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it was magnified by the unnatural hush over the huddled passengers.
“You hadn’t even made the deal yet—”
Jordan’s muscles are tensing. Jessica caught it from the corner of her eye. He was only pretending to be stunned.
“The Beast was already inside you, Jessica. Since the day we found you, he’s been there.”
“Jordan, wait—” but Jordan doesn’t wait. He pivots on his heel and flies out of his crouch like a steel spring. Mackenzie throws herself against the wall of the plane, but Jordan is in hot pursuit. Her flailing hands find the emergency door.
“Mom, please don’t—” Jessica’s frayed nerves are overwhelmed with conflicting emotions as the airplane door flies open, an impossible strength overcoming the cabin pressure as easily as popping a cork from a bottle. The yawning void is a hurricane, throwing the plane into a fresh maelstrom of panic.
“We loved you,” Mackenzie’s face twists in vicious pleasure, bellowing with all her might. Jordan clings to a seat against the horrendous air pressure, but Mackenzie stands unaided in the open door. “Your mother loved you very much. The real you—the one you didn’t think anyone else saw.”
And she was gone, leaning back to tumble out of the plane as poised and careless as an Olympic diver. The turbulence is an earthquake as Jordan crawls across the ground. The wind mingles with the hurricane of voices, morphing them together into a single, omnipresent howl of human suffering. Dantes joins Jordan, and a moment later the two have forced the door closed again. The howling doesn’t stop. The whole airplane is a single throat, reverberating with terror.
15
Hands on his knees, heaving, labored breath, Henry’s mouth twists and gapes so viciously that it appears more like an open wound cut into his face than a natural orifice.
“Water, master?” Elijah asks eagerly, making no move to procure it before he is summoned. He fantasizes briefly about Henry succumbing to the corruption within him and perishing on the spot. He would be free then, wouldn’t he? But what does freedom mean, besides becoming one’s own master? Looking at the old man, trembling and panting and still more powerful than anything in Elijah’s wildest dreams, it’s hard for the teacher to imagine a better use for his life. All the secrets of the universe are somehow wrapped inside that terrible head and the massive book they’d brought with them to Iceland. To turn his back on that seems almost blasphemous.
“Water,” Henry croaks at last, his hands clutching at his own throat. Elijah scampers to obey, sprinting to their luggage in the corner of the small room. By the time he returns with a thermoflask a few seconds later, Henry’s fingers are covered with his own blood where they sank into his throat.
Elijah waits in silence for the full thirty seconds it takes for Henry to quaff the entire bottle without stopping for breath. A wet bubbling at his throat shows were some of the water leaks from the fresh holes which must have punctured straight through to the esophagus. Henry spits the final mouthful of blood and water on the floor before procuring a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and neatly wiping up the discharge. The wounds have healed by the time he finishes.
“The seed isn’t designed to remain in one body for so long,” Henry explains. “The Beast can’t re-enter the world yet, so he was forced to share his power to spread his influence. He must have feared any strength that would grow to rival his own though, which is why his gift is designed to attack the receiver and force them to pass it on before they learn to control it completely.”
Henry coughs again as though in answer, straightening immediately to open the door of their hotel room. At least they hadn’t wasted any time on the transit. Henry had simply taken Elijah by the hand and stepped through the shadows to emerge here. The darkness only lasted for about a minute, but icy pressure felt as if they had traveled directly through the vacuum of space. Elijah’s skin still burned from the transit.
“The book told you this?” Elijah asks, stealing an envious glance at the great metal case in the corner. Henry only grins. “What will happen if you don’t pass the seed on?”
“It won’t come to that,” Henry growls. “The temple of Marapoza is The Beast’s last bastion in this realm. All we must do is banish his spirit from the place and he will be cut off completely. I will be left with full control over the seed inside me, and none of the lesser demons who were so quick to pass on their gift will have the strength to challenge me.”
“And me… master? A faithful servant must doubtlessly…”
Elijah’s voice trails off, his fingers clutching at his own throat. Some infernal magic, he thinks, but no. Henry is merely looking at him now, and this fear is genuine and organic. The expressionless black marble eyes are impossible to read. The mask of Henry’s humanity is slipping by the moment. Elijah chides himself for his mistake. There’s no compassion, no gratitude, no loyalty that he can count on. Henry is something new entirely now, a mind so alien that no human can presume to have insight into it. He must simply bide his time, waiting for clues from this enigma to unravel.
Henry grins again. “It seems we understand each other quite well, my dear friend.” Sunglasses replace Henry’s spectacles to conceal his black eyes. A feigned hunch haunts his stature. Suddenly, it’s just an old man standing before Elijah again, as common and natural as he could ever expect to find. “We mustn’t waste time though. We’re traveling the long way from here—the temple is protected from the mind of demons.”
The pair arrange to rent a car. The feat is made considerably easier by Henry’s flawless Icelandic, a gift no doubt bestowed by his seemingly endless gift of knowledge. Elijah again fantasizes about fleeing and hiding in the village, but some combination of terror and curiosity has mixed within him to create an irresistible urge to follow his new companion without question. The pair are able to travel unnoticed and unmolested through the rural countryside. Elijah sits in reflective silence, not speaking until the car rolls to a halt in a seemingly desolate field of black volcanic lava rock.
“I’m a backup body,” Elijah says evenly, without inquiry or accusation. “You’re afraid that the seed will consume you before you’re able to stop The Beast’s influence. You need someone that you can pass it on to, just in case.”
“That’s not such a curse, now is it?” Henry asks, his voice coy. “When the wall between worlds comes up, then you’ll be the one in control of the mightiest power of all.” Henry steps out of the car to survey the field.
“That’s it then?” Elijah is quick to follow. “Why didn’t you just tell me from the start? Did you think I’d run away?”
“Perhaps. Or let greed give you reasons to delay our journey.” Henry went around to the trunk to pull out the metal case containing the Codex Gigas.
“Master, I would never betray—”
“Why not?” Henry turns sharply. Elijah sees that the sunglasses have been replaced by t
he spectacles once more, giving clear view to inscrutable marble. “I mean nothing to you. I’m a stranger.”
“Master no, you saved my life—”
Henry spits on the ground. There’s a flash of razor teeth protruding from his bleeding gums. “Your life as an elementary school teacher? A worthless gift deserving no loyalty.”
Elijah is surprised to find emphatic tears welling in his eyes. Words catch in his throat as he says: “You didn’t just save my old life. You gave me a new life. Before this last week, the world was so small, but you’ve changed that for me.”
A wry, mocking smile plays about the corner of Henry’s lips, but he doesn’t interrupt Elijah as a fresh spring of emotion floods into his words.
“You must understand that when I was a little boy, I used to think that anything was possible. Anything! The world could turn the other way and time would move backwards—there were lonely people living inside the sun longing for company—that dragons, and magic, and fairies and other worlds all were hidden away just out of sight. And I’d look at the tired, bitter grownups and I’d laugh at them because somehow they’d forgotten. I laughed at how much they cared about clean floors and cushioned chairs and I’d promised myself never to become like that. But I did, you know. Not all at once, but day by day, I stopped caring about all the most important things. I started worrying about my school tuition and what people thought of me and how much gas my car used up, and I thought that’s how it was supposed to be. But it’s not—you know that—I know that now—but I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you. I owe you more than my life—I owe you the very knowledge of what it’s like to be alive.”
Henry’s smile had faded while Elijah spoke. He looks Elijah up and down as though seeing him for the first time, a new appreciation in his face.
“We’re not so different, you and I,” Henry says softly. “Now I’m going to feel just terrible about having to sacrifice you.”
“What?” Elijah’s mouth is a desert. Henry grins.
“Kidding, just kidding, come on now. Don’t look at me like that. We can’t be wasting time getting all mushy here. We have a long way to go yet.”
“Yes, master,” Elijah says, leaping to his feet to pick up the heavy metal case.
“Enough with the master business. Henry is fine.”
“Do you have another name though?” Elijah asks. “I know the human who swallowed the seed was named Henry, but what about… the other entity. Doesn’t it have a name?”
The old man hesitates. “Humans have a remarkable sense of individuality. I’m really quite jealous of it. On the other side, one is simply either The Beast, or not The Beast. We have no names, no identities, no past or future. We are tools for his will, used until we are broken, and then tossed aside. Henry seems as good a name as any other.”
The old man is walking again, and Elijah follows at a respectful pace.
“Then how did you make it to Earth before you created the Codex?”
“That was more the work of the human than it was my own,” he replies. “Your brains are far more potent than you give them credit for. When one has exhausted all possibility of survival, the mind will expand its search of what is possible.”
“I’m not sure I follow what you mean.”
“Think of it this way,” Henry says. “You’re alone in the woods and hiding from wolves which are hunting you. Do you call for help?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Elijah replies. “If I did, then the wolves would know where I was.”
“Exactly. But if the wolves found you and you knew there was no hope of escape. You might as well shout then, right?”
“Of course.”
“Your desperation then breaks the barrier. In ordinary circumstances, your mind is prudent enough not to shout into the dark for fear of what might be listening. When all hope is lost though, the mind begins to scream at random, across time, across dimensions, into the emptiness of space—and sometimes we’ll hear you on the other side and find a way through to you. I used the opportunity to create a tool to fight The Beast but…”
“Did he catch you?”
Henry grimaces, coughing again. His whole body is shaking, and it takes a long time to subside.
“My hold on this world was weak then,” Henry says at last. “I was nothing but a passion in a hysterical mind. My spirit is tangible now though, and it’s growing. Now The Beast is the one who is far away, and he won’t stop me again.”
They don’t have to go far before a small dark hole appears concealed within a small hill of lava rock. Seeing Henry’s intent upon the location, Elijah rolls up the sleeves of his colored shirt in preparation to widen the fissure. Henry holds up a hand to gesture Elijah back, and after a short spell of wet coughing, he simply gestures at the pile of rocks.
It would be shocking enough for the rocks to simply fly out of the way, but it’s something else altogether to watch them disintegrate into the air. Their surfaces warp like boiling water, clouds of sooty mist billowing into the air. In a matter of moments, a tunnel into the earth has appeared where none existed before.
“It feels like walking into Hell,” Elijah remarks as he follows Henry inside.
The light falters swiftly inside as the pair begin their steep descent. Another wave of Henry’s hands echoes into the stone around them, and with a low rumble and a hiss, the tunnel entrance collapses entirely.
Before pitch-blackness falls, Elijah catches a last glimpse of Henry’s gleeful grin and the long darting tongue which snakes its way through razor teeth. Then nothingness—Elijah takes a deep breath, laboring for oxygen in the dense air heavy with dissolved minerals.
“You only think this is like Hell—” Elijah jumps in surprise at how close the voice is, gagging at the rancid breath—“because you haven’t seen Marapoza yet.”
It would have been unnerving enough to hear that in the open air before they began their journey. Here in the heart of darkness, it’s another altogether. Worse still, Elijah is certain that the deep, graveled voice which just spoke sounds nothing like Henry.
16
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the rasping voice breathes heavy beside Elijah. The empty blackness betrays nothing. Elijah swallows hard, his hands groping blindly along the rough stone. No way out.
“The world humans see with their eyes—it’s all a lie, you know,” the voice continues. “You aren’t seeing objects as they are. Merely a deluded reflection of light, that’s all, made even more subjective by the pattern of neurons your brain decides to represent that reflection with. You’re so far removed from reality, until the lights go off, of course. Then everything is exactly as it appears to be.”
“It appears to be nothing,” Elijah grunts, carefully tracing the wall to follow his companion’s voice as it moves.
“Everything is nothing.” That sounds more like Henry’s voice again, coming from the same place the other voice had spoken from a moment before. The two of them are sharing a body. Elijah shivers in the cool dead air. “The stones, the trees, a cloud of interstellar gas a billion light years away—it’s all arbitrary particles with arbitrary energy states. It’s all nothing, until a conscious mind gives it a name and creates something from nothing.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Elijah asks, stubbing his foot and cursing to himself. He pulls his phone out from his pocket, but the damn thing won’t turn on. Or maybe it did, and all the light is simply being devoured by the ravenous darkness. It’s getting warmer as they continue their descent, but he can’t seem to stop shivering.
“Sand was nothing before it was named. Plants without nervous systems, animals without sentient thought—nothing but a slowly refined arrangement of cells and molecules. Even you, Elijah, who understands your own complexity so poorly, can be said to be nothing before you are understood.” The voice was changing again. Even within the same sentence, the rasping heaviness slithers its way between the words. “Elijah, you were nothing before I laid eyes on you. I shall gi
ve you a new name—Krisha—one bestowed with the knowledge of everything you are and everything you can ever be. In doing so I create you, Krisha, as you have never existed before.”
Elijah grimaces, but says nothing. He turns his head uselessly to peer back the way they came, but the blackness is impenetrable. Onward and downward, that’s all he can do.
“Don’t you like your new name, Krisha?”
“I’m more comfortable with Elijah—” His voice cuts short. A loud hiss in the darkness, almost like a snake. “Was that you, Henry?”
“You’re mine, Krisha.” The raspy voice is deeper than ever, and so close he can feel the hot air on his face. “Don’t ever forget that. And without me, you will be nothing again.”
Elijah presses his mouth into a tight line. Confidence doesn’t demand loyalty. Fear does. This can only mean that the seed is growing inside Henry, and he’s afraid. Good, let him be afraid. That fear is the only thing keeping Elijah safe.
“You’re right,” Elijah says at last. “I’m nothing without you, master.”
The hiss in the darkness curls at the end, almost like a purr.
As the pair continues to descend, a distant throbbing begins to resonate overhead. One, two, one, two, pulsing almost like a heartbeat. The heat is rising precipitously.
“The ocean,” Henry says, his voice his own again. “We’re approaching Marapoza.”
“Can’t we have a light yet?”
A low hiss answers him. “Soon enough. I can feel the blood of this place pounding in my ears, begging release.”
Elijah can smell it long before he sees it: burnt, spoiled, rotten eggs.
“Sulfur,” he says, wiping his brow. The heat combines with the dense air to form a truly oppressive atmosphere. Every breath is like a hot drag from a noxious cigarette. The first beady glow of light to finally appear is blinding after the prolonged darkness. A drop of molten lava oozes from a crack in the wall, cooling into black stone before his eyes.