After Death

by D. B. Douglas

  ***

  The tracks lead across the clearing and back into the dense brush. The three of them moved in a line, first Washington with his flashlight pointing down in one hand and his other arm swinging in wide savage arcs to clear the way, then Parks, then Fernando dragging the rear. There was no hint of a path beneath their feet and they relied on the muddy prints and Burt’s map for their direction. Even with Washington as a human machete, the way was difficult and time-consuming. Parks paused and again referred to Burt’s map and seemed satisfied that they were going in the right direction.

  “If I’m reading this right, we should be coming to a hill or mountain dead ahead.” Parks said.

  Washington continued to pound and bang his way through every obstacle and Fernando wondered if Washington wasn’t a little crazy and thought that maybe that’s what it took; one crazy person to find another.

  They made their way through a particularly dense cluster of fallen trees and bramble and emerged directly in front of a dark mountain that seemed to have materialized from out of no where. At its side the tracks abruptly stopped and Washington busily scoured the ground in an effort to resume the trail. He panned his light around for rocks and other hard surfaces that might be close enough to move onto without leaving prints. There was nothing; only mud around the entire base of the mountain that would surely have shown any trespass.

  Washington pointed his flashlight at the mountain above the last of the tracks. Every inch seemed completely covered with dark vines that radiated in all directions like snakes.

  He was flummoxed. The prints simply disappeared against the mountain. He was about to explore further when Parks made a low whistle through his teeth. Washington hurried over seeming to know that this meant something significant and Fernando followed.

  Parks was shining his light on a dead dog lying off to the side under some thorny bushes. The animal was large, with pitch black matted and mangy fur and looked scary, even in death. Its long sharp teeth were fully bared and its baleful eyes stared straight ahead intensely. On seeing the beast, Fernando reacted.

  “That’s the same mean scrounge hound came after me outside the hospital. What happened to it?”

  Parks knelt and examined the blood-soaked carcass under his flashlight. He turned the dog slightly to the left and exposed a deep gash in its throat.

  “Looks like a knife wound.” Parks said.

  Washington shook his head in growing disgust.

  “Fuckin’ sicko must’ve killed his own dog...!” He looked at Parks. “Any idea why he’d do that, Sherlock?”

  Parks thought for a moment and rose to his feet. He brought his gun out from its shoulder holster.

  “We’d have to read his story more carefully to be sure but if I had to guess, I’d say in his mind, this wasn’t his dog.”

  Fernando was amazed again. Parks showed no signs of being creeped out by this monster at their feet or the dark mountain or the entire environment. Neither did Washington. Here they knew that Frank was somewhere nearby and that he was completely delusional and very dangerous — and they showed no fear. Instead, Washington was outraged and Parks was seemingly unaffected and cool as a cucumber. Fernando had never thought of that expression before until now — now he knew what it meant.

  Fernando checked out Washington and was again struck by the extreme dissimilarity of these two men. Washington was all raw emotion. Fernando had little doubt that if he had his way, they’d rush in, guns blazing, and kill and burn everything — fuck consequences. He seemed like one of those guys that applied a color chart to life. If anything passed the middle gray scale — that was it — they were toast — no questions and no hesitation.

  As Fernando watched, Washington turned back towards the tracks that disappeared against the mountain and glared. He fumed and seemed to growl — and abruptly rushed the mountain wall at full speed, right over the footprints and colliding with the wall.

  Or so Fernando expected. Instead, Washington ran into the mountain and disappeared. He could be heard to grunt and cast around in disgust and after a moment he reappeared covered in a messy camouflage of vines and growth that had given way to reveal the entrance to a hidden cave.

  He threw the last of the vines that wrapped around him to the ground and angrily pulled the rest off the wall to reveal a wide cave mouth. He spat in disgust and brought out his weapon, then turned a glowering face on Parks.

  “So, we goin’ in or what?”

  His pride and impulses were barely in check and Fernando could tell that Parks noted this in a glance. Parks nodded and spoke in an amazingly relaxed voice.

  “Give back-up a few minutes to catch up.”

  Washington looked on the verge of losing it. Even in the murky light, a burst of color could be seen rising to his face.

  “And what if he’s got another kid in there? What if he’s getting’ ready to cut off another kid’s arm? What about that?”

  Fernando didn’t like this obvious battle of wills between the two partners. He found himself sliding his finger down the smooth metal sides of the cross around his neck — Old habits died hard, especially when he was nervous.

  Parks seemed to be doing what he did often; measuring and weighing the pros and cons of the situation. In this case, Fernando could almost guess that it wasn’t just the logic of what his partner was saying that he was taking into account. It was also Washington’s volatility and what might happen if he forced his opinion. He finally met Washington’s glare and nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Let’s go.” was all he said but his return stare at Washington said a lot more. “Keep it together” it said. “Don’t get out of control.”

  All Fernando could think was Fuck that! I’m not going anywhere! He found himself staring at the ragged animal on the ground, its neck ripped wide open. He couldn’t take his eyes off it and didn’t move as Washington moved quickly into the cave, gun drawn, eyes narrowed.

  Parks paused alongside Fernando and put a hand on his arm.

  “You’ll be alright — just stay behind us. We might need you to talk him down.”

  Fernando had no idea why he listened to Parks, why his legs suddenly obeyed — but he followed, stiffly at first, then with more ease as they began their descent. The cave floor angled slightly at first, then more steeply — and Fernando tried to push the thought away, tried to ignore the feeling that they were venturing into the bowels of hell.

  They rounded a short turn and a disgusting odor floated up from the depths to greet them. Even Washington at the front of the group hesitated and put a hand up reflexively over his face and nose.

  They were forced to walk single file as the cave narrowed and in the tight quarters Fernando began to feel a bit claustrophobic. The angle of the ground continued to get steeper and steeper still and they marched on to the sound of their own amplified breathing and footsteps.

  Washington abruptly stopped as he noticed something in the walls that he illuminated with his flashlight. He waited as Parks tucked up right up behind him and indicated with a sharp jab of a finger at an odd protrusion.

  Their heads blocked Fernando’s view for a moment then pulled aside. The cave walls were no longer made up of dirt and rock and normal mountain material — now something else was densely packed in with a grey make-shift mortar.

  Bones.

  Fernando scanned the walls quickly, noting what he could with held breath in the scant light. Rib bones. Arm bones. Leg bones. A bone he didn’t recognize. And finally — Skulls — not one but many — all sizes and turned in all different directions —

  They were in a tunnel made from the dead!

  He felt a surge of panic and revulsion and claustrophobia and terror and —

  Disgusting dead bodies everywhere! — He needed out — out of this suffocating death-hole!

  CHAPTER 36 – Lost and Found

  It was slowly sinking in to Frank that he was actually finished — dead! Eli had been right — there was nothing he could do now. T
he game was over and he had lost. Even as he thought this, he began to feel like grains of sand blowing in the wind — dispersing — spreading to the four corners of the universe to never be whole again… He could see his floating reflection over the body below him that he used to occupy. His ghostly form was thinning… reducing… It was so faint now that it was barely a ripple in the air — He was leaving… Becoming finally just as Eli had said… Nothingness…

  His mind spun in one last desperate flurry.

  What a pathetic wretch he had been — He had been lead here so easily every step of the way — His predicament had become exactly like his earlier attempt at a vampire story — the one that Jackie had pointed out as the “he’s fucked” scenario. He was the protagonist but his adversary was too powerful, too supernatural, and there was no weakness that he could discern whatsoever. He was fucked. How pathetic was it that his final thoughts would be about the injustice of it all, the unfairness of life — the apparent unfairness of death, and the stupidity of his own naïveté. And look what he’d done to those around him! Rachel. Lidia. Innocent children. Argus. And soon: Jackie. How sad it was that through his incompetence, innocents should suffer and perish.

  How could he have really hoped that an all-knowing, all-seeing being existed that could smite down this terrible evil and see that justice was put right in the world? It was more fiction. It was as fanciful as the solutions he had written where a crucifix had vanquished the devilish villain — actually much sillier. Eli had been right once again. Our world was the world of force, of power, of focus. Of Rage. The strong prevailed and the weak… disappeared… Eli had murdered children and teenagers when he’d been alive and had never been caught. On the contrary, he had lived to a ripe old age and had been well taken care of by sheep that had never recognized the wolf in their fold. And there he had waited until the right fool came along and facilitated a better incarnation. Was this any kind of punishment for the terrible deeds he had done? How could this happen if there were any real justice in this world or the next? Frank now knew the answer. There was no justice. There was no natural equilibrium to set things right. There was no otherworldly watch-guard or god. Frank had unleashed this beast on an unsuspecting and unprepared world. And with Eli’s insatiability coupled with his virtually unlimited power, it meant unlimited murders. As long as there was life to take, he would continue to take it. There was nothing and no one to stop him — ever.

  Eli stepped into view from inside the reflection holding Jackie before him in a headlock, knife at her throat. He grinned at Frank and spoke in a mocking sing-song taunt.

  “I told you, you weren’t strong enough, Franklin.” He gloated — already inflated with victory. “I told you it would be this way.”

  Frank was thunderstruck — His eyes moved to Jackie and locked.

  She was alive! Jackie — Jackie, my love was still alive! He couldn’t abandon her — He wouldn’t! It was not yet time for him to leave — He had unfinished business here!

  Again, with this focus came new strength — He felt himself returning…

  He looked again past the others at his reflection and saw that it took on a new solidity — He could see the outline of his own mouth as it moved of its own accord and raw emotion poured out in a rush.

  “Jackie..!”

  He could hear his voice! He once more had the power of speech!! It came out over-loud and echoed off the walls repeating over and over until diminishing in a rasping whisper.

  He understood now some of what Eli had said. It had worked! His focus had brought him new strength. And yet, he still wasn’t nearly as solid as Eli… Apparently, focus would only take him so far. To battle this demon he would need more — much more.

  Solidity — what was it that Eli had said about solidity and physicality? He must remember — think! If he could become solid, he could engage this creature — He could do what he hadn’t been able to do before — What his poor dead dog hadn’t been able to do before!

  A normal living being, one bound by the ordinary rules of humankind, stood no chance against a ghastly creature that could become solid or vapor at will. But if he could become the same as him — the battlefield would be even!

  Time seemed to stop as Frank stared at Eli who held Jackie in a firm choke hold and stared back at him. They both seemed transfixed, like a cobra and a mongoose, neither willing nor able to move.

  Frank’s thoughts continued to spin.

  Solidity — how do I achieve solidity?

  He fought to remain absolutely motionless while he puzzled this out. He had no intention of breaking this strange spell of tableau until he was ready — until he could act.

  His odd less-than-solid reflection continued to look back at him from past Eli and Jackie within the mirror.

  He knew the answer was here, he could feel it!

  He tried to flick just his eyes around the cave and hoped that at this distance, it wouldn’t be noticed. There were only the three of them, the candles flickering around them, the mirrors reflecting their images over and over. He corrected himself — There were actually four of them if he were to count his own now deceased crumpled figure at the base of the central mirror —

  That was it! What he needed was right there, right there in front of him!

  He needed the final ingredient — The final ingredient that would allow him to wage battle in solid form!

  As though somehow feeling this newfound resolve, Jackie stirred in Eli’s grasp. She opened her big green eyes and looked at him with terror and a clear pleading expression that wrenched at his heart. She struggled to speak but Eli held her too tightly.

  Frank shuddered in pain and guilt at the position his stupidity had put her in.

  “Jackie!” He blurted out, unable to contain himself.

  His mind set and locked. It had all become intensely clear in this instant. He knew what Eli meant now — He knew the answer to the riddle that could change the outcome.

  He needed blood.

  CHAPTER 37 – Deflections

  Fernando turned away from Parks and Washington and started to run back the way he came —

  Bones, ribs, everywhere, dozens of skulls — staring at him! He needed to get out — back out to clean air!

  His pumping feet slid in the wet mud and he lost traction and went down in a heap just as a sharp echo twittered up the walls and cascaded over them.

  “Jackie!” it reverberated over and over, assaulting them from all sides.

  The group went tense — the call had been emotional, mournful — Passionate.

  Washington snapped into gear, moving at double-speed further into the cave and Parks raced to keep up with him. Fernando leveraged himself out of the mud, now suddenly alone in the darkness.

  Should he try to go back or follow their receding flashlights?

  The idea of feeling his way back in the dark over these horrid walls was worse than the alternative.

  At least they had lights. And guns.

  He scrambled after them.

  He scraped and bumped against odd projections — bones, teeth, who-knows-what. He tried not to think about it — it made his skin crawl. They weren’t far ahead, he didn’t have to go far. Thank God for that.

  Their lights stopped and Fernando closed the gap quickly, feeling a sense of relief — before the thought even dawned on him as to why they had stopped.

  He came in close behind them and then froze just as they had frozen. A stench wafted into his face that made his head swim and his eyes tear and through the nausea what he saw had a drug-induced quality — a vision tinged by blurred radiant light.

  Dozens of lit candles burned on niches carved into the walls that were reflected in three large mirrors at the end of the cave. Each mirror sat propped against a side-wall, the last and largest mirror against the final dead end. In two rows, one on each side of the cave, on spikes before the mirrors, were severed body parts — hands, legs, torsos, heads — old and young — men and women, but primarily children
. Some were decomposed — bone and little remaining hair or tissue left — others were fresh — the expressions still life-like — eyes open and staring and all facing or pointing or angled in the same direction — At Frank, who stood before the three mirrors — His face twisted in an expression of horror — an obvious madman glaring at his own reflection in front of a large audience of dismembered body parts.

  “Let her go, you fucking son of a bitch —” He cursed at the mirrors. “Let her go!”

  Parks, Washington and Fernando watched him, mesmerized. They were only feet away but he paid them no mind. His intense stare at the mirror deepened and he growled.

  “Let her go, I said!” He shouted with even more vehemence at no one but himself.

  ***

  From the mirrors, Eli glared back at Frank, his knife pushed hard against Jackie’s pulsing throat. He seemed to relish every reaction he could draw from Frank — large and small — feeding on them like small bits of perverse nourishment. Eli’s eyes remained locked on Frank as he nicked Jackie with the razor-sharp tip of his knife in the center of her chin — just enough for one single droplet of blood to emerge — and as it blossomed, he flicked his tongue at it with snakish precision, then rolled the liquid around in his mouth, savoring the taste.