The Void

by Bryan Healey

  A bastion of sacrifice, floating across the ocean, headed for a home that sent it, carelessly, to perish. A random sampling, picked from the flock by a wolf in the night, no reason to the choice but by that which stands in the path of the wave of violence.

  It doesn't seem fair that I am riding in a seat.

  What spared me, but ended them?

  My mind marches on while these men, women are gone from this world, nevermore able to smile, to think, to kiss their loves ones, to read a book, to eat good food and drink good wine and dine with friends. Their existence, whatever it was, has been stricken from the world utterly, and they can never be back.

  And yet I live.

  I should cry; but I don't.

  "Will it hurt?" In the void, a cry...

  "No, it won't hurt. If it was able to hurt, we wouldn't be doing this, I assure you."

  "How do you know he can't feel anything?"

  "Mom," Brian squeaks. "That's not dad."

  "That is Max!"

  "No, it's not, he's gone. He can't feel anything."

  "But how do you know?"

  "Mom, we can't go through this again."

  Jenny is crying.

  I hate that she is crying...

  "What happens when you take it out?"

  "Nothing at first. He is capable of breathing on his own, but that is purely an automatic response. He has no brain activity. His body is on auto-pilot. When the feeding tube is removed, it will take a few weeks, maybe, but eventually he will go into arrest and pass."

  And Jenny sobs, heaving, and I hear her sounds drift away; "mom! Come back!"

  "No, no," she mumbles between sobbing.

  "It's okay, mom," Brian shouts.

  "No, no," she keeps repeating. She's barely coherent, now, but she sounds to be coming closer, back into the room and back by my side.

  "It's okay, mom," Brian repeats, softly this time, reassuringly. I hope he is hugging her...

  He better be hugging her!

  A long silence.

  A very long silence...

  Far too much silence...

  Please, someone speak!

  Speak!

  "Okay," Jenny finally breaths. "What now?"

  "Very simple. We remove the feeding tube."

  "Do I need to be here?"

  "No, you don't."

  "Mom!"

  "Brian..." she babbles. "I just can't, okay?"

  "But-"

  "Brian..." she repeats. "I just can't."

  A brief silence and fierce exhale, and "okay."

  Then footsteps, sobbing, gathering in intensity, and then the sound of a door closing. And, once again, painfully, horrifyingly, silence.

  Such terrible silence.

  She left me...

  She left me here alone...

  So very alone...

  I wonder, would the doctor speak to me, likely just him and me (and maybe a nurse or two) as they remove my ability to be fed, to stay alive. Would he talk to me, as he signs and seals my death warrant?

  Will Jenny come back to me?

  Will I die, alone; all alone...

  "Come on, ref, pay attention!" On leather...

  "What a bullshit call!"

  Both me and my father, now on our feet, a beer clad in each of our right hands, faces grimacing and furious at the madness before us.

  "Goddamnit," dad grumbles as he returns to his seat, his hands slapping his knees as he sinks into the cushions and grunts.

  I, still standing, swizzle the remaining liquid in my metal can, and let out a disgusting burp. "I'm gonna get another one. You need one?"

  "No, I'm set."

  "Okay," and I amble off to the kitchen, all at once aware that I am a little tipsy.

  "Hey," and I turn to see my father suddenly behind me, eyes afire. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," I grumble. "Why?"

  "That's your fifth beer today."

  "So?"

  "I think you should be done, son."

  "What? Are you serious?" I am flabbergasted. My father hasn't spoken to me like that since I was a teenager, and I certainly never expected to hear it from him regarding my beer consumption. This was a man that routinely finished a case of beer in an evening on the patio by himself, just reading.

  "I am."

  "Dad, I'm getting another beer."

  "Don't, Max!"

  "That's enough, dad, back off! I'm not a kid trying to sneak a drink from your cabinet."

  "That's still my beer."

  I stood, motionless; he was technically correct, it was his, he bought it. I had no rights over it. But I was stunned at the insinuation; he was cutting me off by the only means he had. And I was suddenly furious.

  "Then maybe I should just go."

  "I can't let you drive, Max!"

  "Dad, Jesus Christ, I've only had four!"

  "Max-"

  "No, enough!" And I turn, sprint for the door, out to the deck, down to the driveway, and into my car. I start it up and take off down the street, tires squealing behind me as I race.

  I am so angry I can barely see...

  But why am I so angry?

  "I can't believe he'd talk to me like that," to myself I grumble, taking a wide corner onto the main street without using a turn signal.

  I'm too angry for turn signals.

  "Like I'm a child," I continue.

  I swerve to the left to keep my tires on the road.

  "I'm a grown man, a veteran, if I want a beer, I'll get a goddamn beer!"

  Another swerve to the right to stay out of the line of oncoming traffic. Then back to the left. And back to the right. I seem to be having some trouble driving straight.

  "I'd expect it from mom, but not from dad!"

  What's that noise?

  "The guy drinks himself asleep every night, and he's telling me that I'm drinking too much! What a hypocrite! I only had a few-"

  Are those are police lights behind me?

  And then a siren echoes.

  Shit...

  I quickly, carefully put on my right blinker and pull to the side of the road and stop the car, turning off the ignition. The police cruiser follows suit and puts his bumper to right before my trunk.

  And then we wait.

  I gather my documents, stealing glances to the rear view mirror every few seconds so as to know when the officer is approaching. It seems to take an eternity, but when he finally opens his door and comes to mine, I find myself wishing he had taken longer,

  "License and registration?"

  I hand him my documents.

  "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

  "Was I swerving a little?" I confess.

  "You were. Have you been drinking?"

  He's looking right at me...

  "No, officer," I lie, "I just had a bit of a fight with my father and am not thinking clearly."

  A good lie...

  He stares at me, looks into my backseat, into my passenger seat, and then back to me. Then back to my documents. Then back to me.

  "I'll be right back," he says and disappears.

  I'm breathing heavily now, anxious; he's going to ask me to do a field sobriety test, I am certain of it. Will I be able to pass it? I feel alright, but it suddenly occurs to me that I have had more than my usual fare of drinks. But I was watching football!

  Everyone enjoys themselves during the game!

  "Here," the officer suddenly appears and hands me my paperwork, looking ste
rn but comfortable. "Do me a favor and drive carefully the rest of the way home, will you?"

  "Yes, sir!" I nearly shout.

  And then he turns, walks back to his car, gets in, puts his left blinker on, pulls into traffic and disappears down the road and out of sight. And I sit there, still breathing heavily, trying to comprehend how I managed to escape without so much as a ticket?

  I must be a lucky man...

  "Good morning," Jenny's voice pulls me from the car and into her sweet grace. "How is he doing? Is he okay?" She asks.

  "Mrs. Aaron-"

  "Just tell me he is okay..."

  "Uh," and a heavy sigh. "He is okay."

  "Thank you," Jenny mumbles.

  I'm so happy you're here!

  "I love you, Max!"

  I love you, too, Jenny!

  "Brian is coming by again later today."

  Good! I need to hear more from him, before the end comes. Whenever that is...

  I'm hungry...

  "He's actually going to come and stay with me for a little while. A few months maybe."

  He's moving back home?

  "We talked about it last night, and he agreed to help me... arrange... everything..." And she trails away, voice cracking; then she coughs and laughs. "I never expected this. Life is a strange thing, isn't it?"

  Strange... That's a way to put it...

  "I think he's going to take the Camaro."

  Good! Don't sell my car!

  Keep it in the family!

  "He's always wanted it, and I have no need for it. He freaked when I told him I was thinking of selling it." And she laughs.

  I remember buying that car; it was a beautiful, sunny Saturday, driving to the address that I found in the newspaper, boasting a cheap sports car for sale.

  I needed a new car.

  "Good afternoon!" I smile at the man.

  "Howdy!"

  "I hear you have a car for sale?"

  "Indeed, I do," he beams and motions for me to follow him into his garage. Briefly, I consider that maybe he is going to kill me, and I wonder if I would be able to defend myself...

  But then his garage door opens, and before me is the most gorgeous hunk of metal and leather that I have ever seen, glistening with the little sunlight suddenly available from the outside opening.

  It was black, convertible.

  It smelled magnificent.

  I would have paid him whatever he asked...

  "He always loved that car."

  I'm glad he'll have something from me...

  "Remember when he stole it to go to that after game party with his friends?"

  Oh, Jesus...

  "I don't think I've ever seen you so angry."

  He reminded me of myself.

  I both loved and hated that.

  "You know, people must think I'm crazy, talking to you like this. I may as well be talking to a pillow, you know? You may as well not be here."

  But I can hear you!

  "I can't help myself, Max. This is all I have left of you. This... shell... this... body... it's all there is. And I only have it for a little while longer with it. Only a few weeks... to see you... like you are..." Her voice cracks, a sudden sob. "I... I..." she mumbles, starting to cry. "I don't know what I'll do without you, Max!"

  I hear sheets ruffle, but I do not hear any further crying. Is she stifling her crying, or has she composed herself? Is she laying on me?

  Is she touching my face?

  Of all my senses, I miss touch the most...

  "I really hope you're somewhere, anywhere, waiting for me. I really hope I can see you again."

  I want to see you again...

  "I suppose you would just call me a fool." And she laughs; more ruffling of sheets.

  I would never call you a fool!

  "I need to believe you're somewhere waiting for me, Max... I just need to. I don't care if I'm fooling myself, I don't care if you're really just gone. Wherever you are, please don't judge me. Please. If I don't hold on to that faith, if I don't believe I'll see you again, I don't think I'd be able to handle losing you."

  I would never judge you...

  "I just need to believe!"

  I wish I could believe...

  "I need to believe... Do you understand?"

  I understand...

  "I hope you understand."

  I understand, Jenny!

  And she giggles. "Listen to me, I must be completely losing it." And she giggles again. "I'm just glad the doctor left the room. It's easier to be crazy when I'm alone with you."

  I like being alone with you...

  "I'm going to miss you more than you know."

  I don't want to leave you!

  "I'll be here every day you have left..."

  I don't want to die...

  "...being crazy with you..."

  I wonder what death will be like...

  "...right her, beside you..."

  I hope it doesn't hurt much.

  "...holding your hand..."

  I think my stomach is already starting to ache, the only feeling I have experienced in as long as I can remember. Yet I wonder, am I even really feeling it? Maybe it's all in my mind. I can remember hunger; am I expecting to be hungry?

  "...you're so warm..."

  I'm sure I'll feel something, as I start to die. I've never died before; I'd come close, but was revived before the world started to slip away. It felt like a heavy sleep. Time wasn't there; I was in a bathroom and then suddenly, inexplicably, was not. Before the melting of time, however, my chest felt crushed, my lungs ached, my throat sore and tight. It was certainly not pleasant. I wonder if it will feel the same...

  "...I'll miss cuddling with you like this..."

  She's cuddling with me?

  "...I wish you could hold me..."

  I wish I could feel her warmth...

  "...I wish we could be in our own bed..."

  I wish I could see home again...

  "...I wonder if I could take you home, for the end, to be in your own bed..."

  I'd like that...

  "...I'd like that..."

  At least I could die with you.

  In my bed...

  My warm, soft bed...

  Surrounded by family I could not see...

  "Get down!"

  And then the Earth shakes.

  The air rattles with a burst of sand and fire, the furious warmth snaking up my back as I am thrown against the wall behind me, my back searing as a pipe tears into my shoulder. I hear shouting as my body crumbles to the floor.

  "Max! Oh, God!"

  The echo of men, racked with agony, strewn across the now dirty and bloody floor. I leap back to my feet and sprint across the floor, into the burning sun, my eyes flaring at the brilliance before coming back to focus and finding a flood of angry, shouting men rampaging toward me, fists clasped onto large weaponry, aimed at the building I had ran from.

  And, out from behind the wall, comes Jenny.

  "Jenny! Jesus!"

  I rush for her, throw my arms around her torso, and rip her to the ground, as bullets unleash from their barrels and fling toward us both. By the time our bodies collide with the ground, the air was frothing with metal death.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Stay down!"

  "Max, stop it!"

  "Jenny!" I shout, eyes fierce.

  She looks scared.

  "Max, what is wrong with you?"

 
; I feel myself starting to sweat. My heart is pounding. I don't know how to get her out of here. She's not safe... how did she get here? Wait...

  I look up, look around...

  How did I get here?

  I blink, shake my head...

  "Max!"

  I look down; Jenny is bleeding.

  Why is she bleeding?

  "Jenny, why are you bleeding?"

  "Max, you-"

  "Are you hit?" I immediately begin checking her body for injuries. I find a gash across her left thigh; she must have been grazed... It doesn't look life threatening, but it is bleeding. I grab at my pants and remove my belt, trying to quickly fasten it around her leg, tightly enough to act as a field tourniquet.

  "Max! Max!"

  I look up at her; she looks utterly terrified.

  Her arm is flush under my iron grip...

  "What?"

  "Max... Please... Let go of me..."

  "What?"

  Why does she want me to let go of her?

  "Max, it's okay! Okay? It's okay, just let go."

  I shake my head, look around.

  I see cars... Where did the cars come from?

  "It's okay..."

  We're on pavement...

  "Max..."

  I look left; a grocery store...

  "Max, it's okay..."

  I'm home- How did I get home?

  "Jenny," I mumble, now frantically looking side to side, scanning the area, looking for the men who were rushing toward us. Looking for threats... I see many men, some women, some children, all dressed casually, none of them angry, all of them staring at me. They look shocked...

  Who are these people?

  "Max-"

  "Jenny?" I look at her, my grip still furious.

  "Max-"

  "Where are we?"

  She blinks, hard, eyes flare, shifting from side to side. She stammers, searching for the words. "We're at the grocery store, Max."

  "The grocery store?"

  "Yes, the grocery store. We were shopping."

  "How did we get here?"

  "We drove here, sweetheart."

  Her eyes soften; concern floods her face.