Suicide. The word reached into Will’s lungs and clutched gentle breaths. Will felt dizzy and sat down in the open driver’s side of his car. “Jesus,” he said.
“I told Detective Brady that all three of these girls were at the Reiki practice before they died. They’re doing a search right now and questioning Kyllard.”
Will bit his bottom lip. “They won’t find anything.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Something’s going on in there, Jake. And our little simple police department isn’t going to figure it out on their own.” Will threw back the towel that the police had covered him with and ground his teeth.
“What are we going to do, Will? We don’t even know for sure that Kyllard is causing those women to kill themselves.”
Will stuck a finger in Jake’s chest. “Say that again and think of your dead girlfriend. Say that again and think of my dead sister.”
Jake backed away and curled his fingers into two meaty fists. He bowed his head and spit on the ground.
“Exactly,” said Will. “We’ll wait until the police are done over there.”
Jake bit the tip of his thumb. “And then what?”
“And then we go in.”
#
Will took a long sip of beer from the bottle and stuck it between his legs in the front seat of his car. Jake leaned his head against the passenger’s side window and from a distance, watched the final Taunton police officer leave the Reiki practice. He could barely see Kyllard smiling with glee, waving at the officer as he walked to his cruiser. The overweight man waved back and heaved himself into the car. He slowly backed out of the driveway and drove into the night.
Finishing his beer, Will flung the bottle into the backseat and looked out his window. “Another Halloween come and gone,” he said aloud.
Jake nodded and poked at the windshield. “About time?” he asked. “The place looks empty, Will. And I can’t see any more officers swarming the house.”
“Let’s go.” Will waited for Jake to step out of the car before he locked the doors. The clinching of the locks sounded like a closing casket. Will opened the trunk and pulled out a wooden baseball bat. Jake reached into the trunk, and after tossing aside old books, videotapes and clothing, he found a rusted crowbar. Holding it in his hands, he closed his fingers around the cold metal. He nodded at Will and the two took quick strides towards the house. Crouching behind a row of bushes in the neighboring home, Will leaned into Jake and whispered. “I’ll knock, and make sure you hide that crowbar. When she lets us in, we’re going to force her to let us take our own look at the house.”
“Sounds good,” Jake whispered back.
Will jogged to the front door and knocked twice, baseball bat hidden behind his legs. Jake hid to the side of the door and out of sight. Kyllard pulled open the shades and shook her head in disgust. Will could tell that she was cursing. She finally opened the door a few inches, long silver hair hanging well below her shoulders.
“What do you want? The police just left here and found nothing, young man. The woman today had a lot of issues going on. We couldn’t help her and she took her own steps to end her life. That’s what I told the police, and that’s what I’m telling you.”
Will held up a hand. “Five minutes is all I want. Just to talk. Please, for my sister.”
Kyllard tilted her head back. “Fine,” she said, opening the door. “Five minutes and no more.”
As soon as there was enough room, Will pushed her down and Jake erupted from his hiding spot. He slammed shut the door and twisted the two locks above the handle. He pulled down the shades and held out the crowbar.
“We’re going to take our own look, you goddamn hag. Stay right there and don’t fucking move.” Jake held the tip of the crowbar to her face, but not a single shred of fear was evident on her wrinkled skin.
Will searched behind the counter and found a variety of oils, rubs and pamphlets. He pushed them all to the side and they tumbled onto the carpeted floor.
“Young man! Be respectful of my store!” She turned to Jake. “You will be the first, my friend.”
Jake pushed the crowbar further into her face. “Yeah, okay.”
“Calm down, Jake.” Will hopped over the counter and back into the lobby. Only a single light bulb hanging in the center of the room provided them with dull light. He held the baseball bat to the side of her head. “We’re not here to hurt you, Kyllard. We just want to look around. Jake, you go upstairs first. I’ll stay here with her.”
Before Jake could walk up the stairs, a dark shape entered the room from beneath the staircase. Will stood back and raised the bat. The figure wore a pure white mask, murky drops of green protruding from two shadowy eyeholes. It was draped from head-to-toe in a black velvet shawl. It grabbed Jake by the throat and in one quick swab knocked him to the ground. The crowbar flew from his hands and landed against the wall. Kyllard pointed at Will and the figure ambled over to him, arms outstretched. Will took a swing with the bat but the shape was too swift and strong; with one slap Will felt the searing sting of pain across his cheeks.
Kyllard stood and brushed herself off. “Get them upstairs.”
The last thing Will saw was the infinite dark of the figure’s eyes and a drop of moonlight fighting with the dreary glow of a single light bulb.
#
Will opened his eyes, the sweat of a dying dream slipping onto his nose and cheeks. He couldn’t figure out where he was or what happened to him. A coverlet of orange radiance filled the room. Four or five large jack o’ lanterns, black candles blazing inside, decorated the corners of the room. He looked down to see his arms and legs tied to a brown, polished rocking chair.
“Awake now, aren’t we?” The haggard female voice shocked him into full awareness, and he realized where he was.
Kyllard.
Will spit a long strand of blood from his mouth and it dangled on his chin like a crimson spider web. When he saw the display in the center of the room, every bit of bile in his stomach rose to his throat. Three figures lay quietly on a glass table, each body completely devoid of skin, revealing a thick layer of wet, moving muscle. Their chests heaved in and out with gentle motions.
They’re alive, Will thought.
“The life force,” Kyllard said, “it keeps them alive, young man.” She laughed a maniacal chuckle and lifted Will’s chin with a single, bony finger. “Your sister, those girls, they were all full of it, my friend. And now their souls, their energy, are keeping my family alive.”
“Alive? What are those things?” Will could hear the angry pinch of terror in his voice.
Kyllard chuckled and pointed to the body in the middle. Its lips remained open, spots of drool dressing its shiny face. “No one dies in my family, young man. No one.”
Will tried not to look at Kyllard’s face and instead moved his head to the right. Jake sat cross-legged near the table of bodies, drool escaping his lips and dripping onto his chest. “I see it. I see it. I see it,” he repeated, his voice sullen and wavy.
“Oh my God!” Will screamed. “What did you do to him? And what the hell are those things?”
Kyllard walked over to Jake and patted him on the head, emaciated hand pushing down his thick black hair like he was a tired dog. “My boy, what do you see?” Her voice was different now, and Will could hear the evil crisp in her tone.
Will felt the force of desperation grip his entire body, each fiber of every muscle struggling to break free of the horrid scene playing out in front of him. Jake stood up, his eyes now two black slits with red drops in the center. He calmly shuffled over to Will like he didn’t recognize him as his future brother-in-law. Instead, Jake angled his head in confusion, soft dark bangs hanging over his forehead. He leaned in front of Jake and smiled, salivating at the tips of his lips like a frightened child. He stared at Jake for a solid minute before Will heaved himself over, chair falling to the ground. The impact of his head against the wooden floor wasn’t as painful as the anti
cipation of death.
Kyllard shook her head. “Now, now. It’s not going to do you any good to try and leave.” She motioned for the large man that only a short while ago cracked his fist against Will’s unsuspecting skull. The husky man, still draped in black with a mask covering his face, picked up Will by his chest and forced the chair back to its original position.
“What is wrong with you people?” The weight of Will’s words did nothing to sway the mood of the ceremony in front of him.
Kyllard knelt in front of him and licked her top lip, tongue slithering over faint orange lipstick. “These beings, they’re my family,” she said, pointing to the line of degloved bodies in the center of the room. “We’re keeping them alive. Pretty soon that warming glow in your heart is going to be given to them so they can spend more time on this earth.”
“No! No!” Will attempted to force his arms upward and break the thick rope holding his wrists to the chair, but they were tied without escape in mind. He sent shocks of frantic breaths through gritted teeth.
“I can see it now,” said Jake. “I can see it now. I can see it now.” He repeated the phrase until it was tattooed on the walls of Will’s mind.
Kyllard stood up and patted Jake’s bare arm. “What do you see?”
Jake raised his arms to the air as if reaching for the invisible heavens hidden beyond the ceiling tiles. “I can see it,” he whispered. “A thousand black flowers draped over a field of red grass. They’re all for me. I can see it now. The light, it’s so dark and welcoming.” At his last word, his fingers collapsed into fists and he looked to the lone window in the stuffy room.
“Go to it.” Kyllard opened the window and pointed to the moon.
Jake walked over to the open window and stuck his head into the air, the winds of another Halloween caressing his hair. One leg found its way through the window and he followed it with the other.
“Jake, no! Jake!” Will’s words were muffled by the deafening static in his ears. Jake reached at the moon and in seconds he flung himself out of the window, body falling through the air like a lightweight mannequin. The static in Will’s head subsided and all he could hear was the crunching of bone against concrete.
“Jake, no…” Will let his head drop down in sorrow.
Kyllard closed the window, last bits of wind blowing at the bottom of her silver hair. She stooped next to the long glass table and gently slid a finger alongside one of the bodies. Its mouth opened at her touch, thin tongue protruding from the dark hole. The being’s brown and rotten teeth clamped together before its pupils danced underneath the absence of eyelids. Will felt bile rise at the top of his stomach and in a matter of moments it all flowed out of his mouth like a rogue river. It dribbled down his chest and collected on his lap.
Grin plastered on her now sweaty face, Kyllard took steps over to Will and placed her palms over his knees, just out of reach of the trickles of vomit. She said something that Will couldn’t hear. She looked up at him and closed her eyes. “And now for you,” she said, her hand finding its way to his heaving chest. The large man grabbed the base of Will’s head and although he wanted to scream with his last bits of sanity, all he could do was let tears slip from his angry eyes.
Kyllard stood and both of her hands were now on his temples. She bowed her head, mumblings lost in carroty light. In a moment Will couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, elastic pinches of illumination flashing every few seconds. He heard the murmur of Sonia’s voice and the sweet tinge of affection in his heart. His vision dissipated into a smoldering explosion of dizzying static and a quick rocket of bright light.
The Hum of Dead Stars
Moonlight dissipates into a cloud of clove smoke and my eyes adjust to the sight of an evaporating sea. Fingers tingle with the chill of another dying night as they grip the edge of a warm cigarette. Blood graces nicotine inside my poisoned heart and I wait for my skin to dry and crack under a thin layer of frost. One last drag and the remains of the cigarette fall off the balcony and dissolve somewhere between the mist and rocks below the house.
I walk into the bedroom and flip the switch next to the doorframe, killing lights showering a pretty face eager to drift back into slumber. She looks at me with a midnight gaze and flips golden bangs out of her face. “Come back to bed,” she says.
Deep breaths and I nod, ignoring the flounce of cold covering my arms and legs. I slide under layers of wool blankets and she drapes a leg over mine, stubble colliding with goosebumps. It’s not so easy to fall asleep anymore and even as I close my eyes and embrace the most beautiful woman left in the world, thoughts race to the tune of a thousand crying children. I force quiet into the most hollow portions of my brain and soon enough all I can hear are the momentary melodies of Chelsea’s breaths. She’s sleeping soundly and I wish I could do the same.
Wind whistles over an ocean that’s seen better years and I can remember when Chelsea and I found this house, this sanctuary away from a world in which blue skies were replaced with endless nights. I force my eyelids shut and picture a summer lake glistening with sunlight. The future has become our present and what I miss the most isn’t something that’s within the reach of my bitter, tired fingers. Chelsea slides a hand up my abdomen, resting it on my chest. Purple-painted fingernails clash against pallid skin and a shiver of warmth glides throughout my blood.
An odd hum resonates constantly from the glitter of dead stars. It leaves us forever haunted and more than afraid of our future. The jagged corners of another dream begin to pinch me as a symphony of dying waves crashes against the last bits of consciousness.
#
Eyes open and view an empty bed and I can hear Chelsea attempting to make breakfast in the kitchen. I yawn and catch the cold breeze from outside. Even with the few doors and windows of the house locked and barricaded, a thin rush of air always manages to seep in through unseen cracks. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stare through the sliding doors of the bedroom.
Only a few months ago I got used to the company of the moon and there’s a small part of me that feeds off its pallid glow. Sometimes I believe I don’t miss the beaming rays of sunshine anymore.
Chelsea leans into the room, tight black t-shirt and the jeans she’s worn everyday for the past two weeks. “Breakfast is on the table if you want anything,” she says.
I shake my head and continue staring at the darkness of the fresh morning sky. “I’m not hungry.”
She sighs and blows hair out of her face, pouting her lips. “You have to eat something. It’s not going to make the situation any better if you turn against your own body. You need strength. Please, eat something, even if it’s small.”
“Okay.” I stand up and take slow steps out of the bedroom and into the hallway. I can remember the framed pictures that once graced these walls, snapshots into the life of another family. After the earthquakes, we threw them in the trash, the ghosts of the house long forgotten. The four-second walk into the kitchen seems more like time in a coffin than anything else.
A few pieces of burnt toast adorn a plate of watery eggs. I sit and smile at Chelsea. She was never a good cook but I know deep down inside that she’s been trying her best for the past few months. I shove a forkful of yellow into my mouth and chew. Chelsea sips juice out of a paper cup and asks me if I want any. I nod and she pours the last of a bottle of apple juice into her cup and slides it next to my plate. Before I notice, she’s on my lap with her arms wrapped around my neck. Her tears feel like fire to my aching skin and I push her off of my torso.
She does this at least once a day and I can never blame her.
“I want to leave,” she says in between deep breaths. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
I force her arms to the side and gaze at a monolithic beauty, bleeding mascara over wet cheeks. “I don’t want to be here either. But I’d rather be here spending my days with you than living death two hundred miles away. Home is gone.”
My finger gently presses into
the skin between her breasts, black fabric embracing me. “This is home now.”
I can tell her smile is forced and she walks away. I finish my breakfast and place the soiled plate into the sink with the other dishes that neither of us has touched in days. Four or five months ago I would have yelled at Chelsea for leaving a mess in the kitchen but now I’m just grateful that we’re both alive and well. Sometimes she cries for her mother and father, other days it’s for her sister and the handful of friends that she kept close to her heart.
I resist the urge to walk into the bedroom to comfort her and instead sit quietly in the living room, watching the anathema of blue snow fall from the sky and coat the ruins of the world outside the house.
#
Chelsea and I were engaged before the events happened. We wanted a December wedding and the quiet voices in our hearts begged us to hold true to the date. The winter air held a crisp quality and I found a charcoal grey blazer buried deep in the bedroom closet. Chelsea’s hair was parted in the middle, rising roots of black fighting an unnatural swoop of blonde. She braved the cold and wore a white tank top and green-tinted jeans.
She looked at me with carcinogen eyes and mascara the color of autumn chrysanthemums. She said three words and I kissed her, standing and swaying under dead tree limbs while descending ash danced in our hair and backs. For the first time in weeks a small sliver of pink light penetrated through the obsidian of the afternoon sky. We both smiled at this small marvel in our new world, hoping that it was a sign of hope, a sign of better days.
We sat against the lone rock in the remains of the garden and held each other until the snow started to drift against the comfort of our skin, bits of vanilla radiating with only a tinge of blue. I planted my elbow in the dark crevasse below the middle of the rock and Chelsea laid her head against my chest. She perked up at the sight of two rabbits hopping through the dead trees of the surrounding forest, signs of life after nature’s funeral.
Sixteen Small Deaths Page 15