Soul Mates

by Thomas Melo

  * * *

  Gary John was always taught to aim for the largest mass on a target in his military days. He thought that he would make an exception for the likes of who he believed was Tyler Swanson, and he did. After the shot’s report rattled the still and late night air, Jayson was dead before he hit the ground when the bullet from Gary John Herrick’s rifle (notice how assassins are typically known by three names?) tore through the back of his head and ricocheted off of the monument wall after exiting the front of Jayson’s head. Before ninety seconds had passed and the first call to 911 was placed, Herrick was off the roof, on his way towards Route 15 and heading away from Las Vegas, pleased with the blow he seemingly dealt the Super Chasm.

  Chapter 25

  The next day, the Super Chasm and the Swanson residence was overrun with police presence. Lilith played her part perfectly. Although she did not anticipate the loss of Jayson the way she did Tyler, she was unaffected. It did not matter. She cried the crocodile tears for the benefit of the police and the media and had her water tight alibi in place. She especially gave a wonderful performance when she made a statement to the press that “This will not deter the progress and prosperity of the Super Chasm. If I let these incidents stop the evolution of the Chasm, it will show that radicalism has a voice that can make a difference and will be heard. Tyler’s death cannot be in vain.”

  Despite Gary John Herrick’s hasty escape, police caught up with him the very next day and placed him in custody. In fact, it was Herrick’s haste that hanged him. Prudence would have benefitted him in the case of that night, as DNA taken from the cigarette butt he left behind on the roof was traced back to him. Gone were the days when it took significant time to get results from a DNA trace. These were modern times. These were times of the Super Chasm.

  Once they had DNA evidence against Herrick, who was beside himself, not because he was caught, but because he learned that he had the wrong target, it did not take long for police to find evidence of Herrick’s intrusion to the Swanson household and murder of Tyler Swanson, which Lilith fabricated literally out of thin air. It all fit together so nicely. In the past, Herrick had been arrested on multiple occasions at anti-Chasm protests and was a known problem to local authorities already. It made perfect sense that a known anti-Chasm activist would kill two of the Super Chasm’s top brass, adding an exclamation point to his cause. Open and shut. Tyler loved those types of cases.

  * * *

  Jim Colabza had done his best to avoid the news for the next couple of days after he had made contact with Tyler’s mother and Tyler himself in a sense. There were four newspapers at the end of his driveway: two were his regular local paper, and two were from St. Anastasio. He knew that he could not keep avoiding the news, regardless of how hard he might try. On top of that, his human curiosity was getting the better of him. He needed to see if his efforts were all for naught. It was a beautiful day too, so why not follow the trail of optimism and hope for the best?

  Jim made his way down his driveway, his trepidation building with every step. He made an agreement with himself that he would collect the papers and take them into his house where he could peruse them. Jim grabbed the papers and walked back towards his house, the itch to open the paper and begin reading headlines becoming too strong to resist.

  Jim reached his porch and sat on the top step and opened the previous day’s newspaper with bated breath. Nothing in the local news, he was then onto the St. Anastasio news. Nothing. Now for that day’s paper. Jim’s hands began to tremble mildly, as if he had one too many cups of coffee. Nothing from the local paper, but he had figured that he would not see anything short of the apocalypse in that paper. Now for the St. Anastasio paper.

  He unfolded the paper and saw right away what he was afraid of. He saw Tyler’s picture on the front page. He had really grown and matured since he graduated from Alan B. Shepard High School, but it was him; there was no mistaking that. He told himself that that seeing Tyler on the front page did not necessarily mean anything, but he didn’t believe that, not really. The fact that the story was on page six was the really troubling part.

  Jim got up from the porch, refolded the papers and took them inside. He walked straight through the den to the kitchen and threw the papers in the trash bin. Jim walked directly out his back door and straight to the edge of his backyard where the Apollo tree and the bank of Robinson Pond was.

  Jim didn’t need to read the papers. What the Apollo tree had showed him was all he needed to see. He saw that if Tyler went back to the house, he would take his own life. He saw everything, the draw of the gun, the shot, and Tyler’s lifeless body collapsing to his bedroom floor with his “wife” looking on with a sickening curiosity on her face. What Jim didn’t know was that it just did not matter. If Tyler left without paying a final visit to his “wife” it would have ended the same for him. He may have bought himself a day or two more, at best, but the outcome would have been the same. It is possible that a day or two would have been ample time for Tyler to reconcile with his family, however. He semi-lowered and semi-collapsed into his Adirondack chair, shielded his eyes with his hand, which was propped up with his elbow on the armrest of the chair, and began to sob.

  Later that evening, the phone rang in Jim’s house. He almost never received phone calls and shuddered at the thought of who could be on the other end of the line.

  “Hello?” Jim asked forebodingly.

  “Mr. Colabza?” The voice was a male’s voice and it was neither happy nor sad, it was just there, but the voice was tired. That was for sure.

  “Yes, who is this please?”

  “This is Raymond Swanson. You had my son, Tyler as a student,” he answered.

  Jim was dreading this call that he somehow knew had been on the way. He supposed he couldn’t blame them for turning to him for some closure, which is what he presumed they were calling him for. A teacher making contact with the family of an ex-student years after they sat in your classroom is not exactly a typical occurrence.

  “Yes, Mr. Swanson, I recall your son very well. I just heard the news today–I still like to know what’s going on in St. Anastasio so I have the paper forwarded upstate. I’m so sorry for yours and Cindy’s loss.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you, I know you must be a busy man even in retirement, but Cindy told me that when I was away on business, you had called the house…and rather late she had mentioned,” Ray shared.

  “I did,” Jim simply said.

  “Well, the reason I’m calling, Mr. Colabza, is–”

  “Please call me Jim.”

  “I will do that, and you can call me Ray. When people call me Mr. Swanson, I turn to see if my father is standing over my shoulder,” Ray chuckled. So did Jim; it was another reference from A Few Good Men. I can’t explain all of the references. See the movie; you won’t be disappointed.

  “Sure thing, Ray.”

  “Well, the reason I was calling was because Cindy had told me that the reason for your call was because you were worried about Tyler, that you thought that he might have been in some sort of danger. Apparently my son was in some danger…the worst kind, as it turned out, and I’m sure you’ve heard…” Ray explained. Apparently Ray did not hear Jim offer his condolences the first time, so he offered them again.

  “I did hear, and I’m truly sorry for yours and Cindy’s loss. I liked Tyler very much, as long ago we did have a great teacher/student relationship.”

  “How did you know, Jim? And please don’t misunderstand. I, in no way on this Earth, think you had anything whatsoever to do with it, and I believe you were just trying to help, but, how did you know from 3,000 miles away? How?” Ray asked.

  Jim always knew that this phone call was not only a strong possibility, but imminent, especially if things turned out the way they did. Knowing that, Jim did prepare for this question, but like any laid plan (of mice and men), he just was not prepared with what he felt was a satisfactory answer.

  “Ray, you wouldn’
t believe me if I told you,” Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Please try me. You’d be amazed at what I’d believe after knowing my son’s wife.”

  “So you know too.”

  “Know what?” Ray asked.

  “That Lilith is otherworldly…and evil,” Jim treaded carefully.

  “I’ll say this, Jim: I suppose I believe in a God or a higher power of some sort. I’m not what you’d call an atheist and I’m certainly by no means a pious man by anyone’s standards, but I’ve seen things from my son’s wife that can’t be explained and would make the hair on the back of my neck stand up…and I prefer to leave it at that.” Not that Jim actually wanted a detailed explanation; he still wondered if his ardelio days were firmly an unfortunate chapter of the past.

  “That’s fair, Ray. I have my own experiences that I don’t wish to discuss. They go back as far as when I was teaching your son in school. Anyway, I owe you an answer here, don’t I?” Ray said nothing; it was unnecessary. “Let me just say this, I had certain feelings that manifested themselves in a peculiar and frankly, supernatural way. I don’t necessarily believe in the supernatural, but like you, after meeting Lilith years ago in my classroom, I have somewhat changed my stance quite a bit. I felt that if there was even a possibility that the message I had received was authentic, that I owed it to Tyler and, of course, his parents, to give him forewarning.”

  “Well, that’s a fair answer, and Cindy and I do appreciate what you tried to do to help our son.”

  “I offer you and Cindy my condolences and nothing but the best. I’m truly sorry for your loss,” Jim said, in one way or another, for the third time.

  “Thank you, Jim. We wish you a happy and peaceful retirement. Take care of yourself.”

  Jim decided that he would never get a better opportunity than right now to perhaps mend a wound that had to be eating away at Ray as a father. He took advantage of the opportunity.

  “Ray, there is one more thing that you should know.” Ray said nothing, only listened intently. “Although Tyler never said it, he was truly sorry about how things turned out between you, your wife and him, but especially between you two.”

  Ray remained silent a moment longer on the other end of the line and then finally spoke up in a meek and choked up voice, “How do you know that?”

  “The same supernatural experience that told me that he was in trouble also allowed me to feel what Tyler was thinking. That’s really the best way I can describe it, but I know it to be true as sure as I know what I am thinking in my own mind.”

  “Well um…” Ray began, using untapped sources of willpower to keep from becoming unraveled with his son’s former educator, “that’s…that’s very comforting to hear, thank you. I don’t know how or why, but I believe everything you are telling me. Call it foolish optimism if you want, but I think it’s more than that. Thank you, Jim.”

  “No need to thank me. You and Cindy take care of each other.”

  Jim has not spoken to the remaining Swanson family since. His nocturnal torments from Lilith ceased, one and done, as they say. There was no longer a need for him to meddle. This, however, did not prevent Jim from wondering if the next night of sleep would be interrupted yet again by the cold and threatening essence that he could not see, but he presumed continued to watch him sleep in the darkest corner of his bedroom, waiting for him to interfere for the last time.

  Chapter 26

  Our story is done. It was better that you heard it from me, rather from the other. I suppose you are still curious as to who was telling the same story, but in an unforgiving manner with his captive audience. Well, I understand human nature and the (sometimes) poisonous byproduct–curiosity–that it frequently brings. So, by all means, have a look for yourself, but please don’t say I didn’t warn you, and I will be back here if you need me.

  * * *

  “So there you have it, folks! A ripping good yarn if I do say so myself! A round of applause if you’d please? Well, fuck me runnin’, thank you! You really are too kind. That sort of applause could really urge a man to do more than one show a night! Now, I did say that Tyler was a bit indisposed at the moment, did I not? Well, no longer!”

  * * *

  Back already? I don’t blame you. You hear stories about him all of your life, but nothing quite prepares you for actually being in his presence. We have come this far together, allow me to take you the rest of the way.

  Tyler’s time to reveal himself to the audience who had heard so much about him had finally come. They should have been familiar with him, after all every single one of the captive audience fought in his arena. A pale human body, with a distant stare conquering his countenance, emerged from behind a large red satin curtain that seemed to reach into an endless charcoal sky and opened onto a large dark stage. Tyler stared emptily at the stage and the audience, who were all seated in rows and rows of red theater seats.

  “Tyler Swanson! Come on down once again! Boy, this never gets old! You are one of my favorites, my friend, you truly are!”

  Not under control of his body, Tyler made his way towards the edge of the stage and stopped right before the edge where, below, the captor waited in the orchestra pit for this moment. It was his favorite part and as busy as he was, he was sure to make time for this re-occurring moment frequently, or ad nauseam, to use a language the captor would be much more comfortable with.

  The blankness left Tyler’s face as he peered down at the captor. “Please…no more. Please.”

  “Now Tyler, we’ve been through this.” Tyler only whimpered in response, as he looked out at the familiar audience. “Let’s get on with it then, shall we?” These words were more or less for the captor’s own amusement, because the truth was, although Tyler had already been through this thousands of times, in his mind, this was the very first time. It had to be so that the horror would be fresh.

  “Wh-wh-who are you?” Tyler asked sheepishly.

  “Ohhhh. Come now. You insult me. How could you ask me such a thing after all of the time we’ve spent together, not only down here, but up there! Come closer and take a look.”

  Tyler knelt down at the edge of the stage and the captor came closer. Tyler looked straight into the captor’s eyes, which shined a bleeding ruby red. Tyler gasped as the audience of a few hundred captives, made up of fallen combatants of the Super Chasm, disintegrated into a rising lake of fire and magma as their shrill screams and cries filled the theater at a pitch that would drive a sane man to lunacy. Tyler didn’t know what was worse to look at, but as he always did, his eyes met the captor’s all too familiar eyes once again. There was no mistaking whose eyes they were the first time he saw them and there was no mistaking whose eyes they were now.

  “Who am I, you ask, Ty-my-guy? Well, I think Mick and the boys said it the best when they said: ‘Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name.’”

  The roar of the rising fire and molten earth was drowned out by the devil’s maniacal laughter, as well as Tyler’s high pitched scream, as he broke the plain of his sanity once more.

  Humans for centuries have lived with the phenomenon that nothing that you go through is as bad as you make it out to be in your mind. Tyler can attest to the fact that Hell is not as bad as you may think it is in your mind…it is worse beyond man’s ability to comprehend.

  Epilogue

  Our time together is drawing to a close for now. Perhaps we will meet again, depending on how you live your life.

  You have seen movies, read books, even heard songs about the devil. Some of these artistic portrayals go as far as romanticizing him, not unlike how modern cinema has turned vampires into love-struck, misunderstood romantics. The devil has been portrayed in a similar fashion at times. I am here to tell you not to be fooled. Since man first began roaming the Earth, we have watched man become a target of the devil. It is his joy and his hobby to visit every human on Earth at some point in their lives and test them. Based on their encounter, the devil will either have lit
tle more to do with the person or will mark them as a person of great interest, a person that he would like to get to know perhaps a little better.

  Chances are fair that you have already had an encounter with him at one point in your life, if you are old enough to read this. He typically visits the young, primarily, for they are the most easily influenced. He could say “hello,” ask for a piece of gum, he could ask you for a match to light a cigarette, or ask for a seemingly benign favor after getting to know you long enough so that the request of a favor would not seem to be out of the ordinary. I say “he” but he could be whatever he wants to be. If you have not had your encounter yet, the day is coming and no one gets away without making his acquaintance at least once. He has nothing but time to make his introductions.

  His omnipresence and ability to visit everyone on Earth has earned him a foolishly playful moniker up here amongst the rest of the angelic guides. They call him the Evil St. Nick. I prefer to stay away from such monikers, as I fear the devil’s indignation is naturally lost when coupling him with a loveable figure such as Santa Claus.

  Please keep this story in mind, and be aware. As a guardian angel, I am here to tell you that we are all assigned to every one of you on Earth, to guide you, and to keep you heading down the correct path. But even we cannot prevent all of your follies, and some mistakes can send you down the wrong path with no hope of returning to the correct one. You have free will, which is a gift, but a gift that requires great responsibility.

  Although there were chances for redemption, if you harken back to when Tyler was a child, he started down the wrong path when he killed that squirrel in his backyard with his friends.

  I implore you: look for and recognize your squirrel…if you haven’t already missed it.