by Brian Harmon
“You won’t be here for an eternity. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Is that a challenge, Danny?”
Daniel glared at the man for several heartbeats, and then turned to look at the bodies that had once been his wife and daughter. He could feel the tears swelling up again. Sherry had been the only woman who had ever loved him. She did not even care about the scars which had ravaged his body. Her heart had often been the only thing that made his life worth living. “Sherry…” he began. He could no longer feel the heat or taste the smoke, though it was slowly devouring him.
“It’s a date, then,” said the man in the fire.
Daniel looked up, ready to strike at his foe, but there was no longer anyone there. “I’ll kill you,” he promised as he fell to his knees beside his wife. He reached out and touched his daughter’s cheek one last time. “I swear I’ll kill you.”
He could feel the intense heat as the flames gnawed his already tortured flesh.
Outside, sirens screamed as the fire trucks raced into the driveway.
* * *
Now the fire was growing thicker. Its yellow hands clutched at him from every tree and bush and laughed at him for as far as he could see in the thickness of the forest. He could taste the bitter smoke, but did not choke. He had spent too many horrible hours in the fire to be bothered by such weak annoyances.
He tried hard to fight back the memory of the night before, when he and the man in the fire had gone face to face…and had both come so close to winning.
He forced the thought back, but it would not go far. He would never forget that night, and could only hope to never relive it. It had not merely been an incident, like with his parents and with his wife and daughter, it had been a war. He could still hear the explosion as the Bronco’s gas tank blew, showering him with white-hot metal and glass. He could still see the ball of fire as the tool shed collapsed. He could still smell the thick odor of the black smoke that had rolled from the melted shingles as they poured and dripped from the roof of the cabin like the runoff from a heavy downpour. For several hours, he had been in a physical hell. Even the water that gushed from the severed pipes in the ceiling of the cabin had been boiling hot.
He had come to the cabin to find an end to his horrible life, and there, the man in the fire had found him again. Twice the monster had taken his family, but those were not the only times he had been victimized. A factory and a sawmill where he worked had both gone up, as did his home on many other occasions. There were the apartments in Georgia and Ohio, the houses in Arkansas, California, and Nebraska, a hotel in Illinois… The man in the fire had followed him all across the country. Those who knew him, thought him to be insane, and all called him a pyromaniac. Wherever he went, the fire would follow him.
Even he could not be certain that the man in the fire was real, or if he was merely another piece of himself, another part of his own brain, the evil twin. The one thing he knew for certain was that on this night, one of them would die. The nightmare would end one way or another.
At last, as he stepped through the groping flames and into a circle of dancing fire at the edge of a small clearing in the forest, he stopped. He looked out at the green grass just beyond the blaze, then turned and faced the blackness behind him.
“I know you’re here,” he said as he clutched the gun in one trembling hand. “Come on out.” He looked back over his shoulder knowingly. “It’s payback time.”
“Is it?” asked the man in the fire as Daniel turned to face him. He had appeared behind him, just as he had expected, just as he had planned.
“You killed my parents…you killed my wife…” he took a step forward and pumped the gun, “…you killed my little girl.”
“Oh, but I’ve killed more than just them,” said the grotesque beast with his same evil grin.
“Yeah, well it’s my turn.”
“What are you going to do with that? Shoot me?” His gruesome grin never left his hideous face. “You can’t kill me. Bullets will never hurt me.”
“No,” agreed Danny, “but this thing does pack a hell of a kick.” He raised the gun and aimed it at the creature’s chest. Now it was his turn to grin. He watched with satisfied pleasure as the killer of his family stared back at him with eyes full of hell. His expression shrank to a curious confusion, then gave way to pure and unobstructed fear as he realized what was about to happen.
Daniel pulled the trigger and watched as the man in the fire was knocked off of his feet…and out of the fire.
He watched, his smoky eyes filled with delight, as his life-long foe writhed and squirmed before him. Thick smoke rose from the creature’s mouth as he screamed and kicked upon the ground just inches beyond the ash that had been his anchor to the earth.
“How does it feel?” Daniel asked as black and rancid blood boiled from the holes his shotgun had made in his victim. “How does it feel to have someone take everything from you? Does it hurt?” His grin widened and a grim chuckle rose from his raspy throat. At his feet, flames rose up from the already scorched ground and danced happily about his ankles as he laughed down at the killer of his family. For the first time in many years, he felt joy rising within his heart. “It feels pretty damn good up here!”
Gradually, the monster’s heaving and wriggling died down to a bare twitch, then he was still. An icy mist rose from his body as the blood froze upon his blistered skin. Finally, with a sickening crackle, the carcass frosted over, and the breeze began to carry it away, one snowflake at a time.
The man in the fire was no more.
For several seconds, he stared down at the gun in his hands, then sighed and tossed it into the burning brush. He who had destroyed his life was dead, but he could not start over. He had nothing left. He considered returning to the cabin, but there was nothing left there either.
All around him, flames caressed him, rising up out of the burned ground like living creatures to touch him, then slinking away. The hatred they had showered him with before was now replaced with love, and its touches were now intimate and soft. All of the pain was gone.
He turned and walked away. It was all over. Each time he lifted his feet, yellow flames would dance momentarily in a hellish footprint before dying again into darkness.
He turned and walked toward the warm and inviting glow of the fire. It was still waiting for him. It could not leave him, and he could not leave it. They belonged together, just as they always had. He no longer had a life. He no longer had a soul. He was nothing more than another man in the fire.
###
About the Author:
Brian Harmon is a writer of horror fiction and dark adventure. He was born in Missouri, raised in a rural setting surrounded by miles of forest and hills, a landscape that is a favorite setting for much of his writing. After completing his education in Missouri, he moved to Southern Wisconsin, where he settled and married. Brian remains in Wisconsin, where he lives with his wife, Guinevere, and their two children. He is a full-time stay-at-home dad and a novelist with whatever time he has left.
For more, visit Brian Harmon online at www.HarmonUniverse.com
Other titles by this author:
The Hell Within the Heart
Low Tide
From Such Small Things
The Box (Book One of The Temple of the Blind)
Gilbert House (Book Two of The Temple of the Blind)