by Frankie Rose
I knelt in a snow-covered landscape, my feet bare and blue with the cold. I felt it within the very depths of my soul, lacing its fingers through mine, beckoning me to lie down and sleep. Just for a moment.
Emaciated trees, tall against the black expanse of sky, hid willowy shadows. They watched me, waiting, poised for the right moment to show themselves. Daniel was there at the top of a bluff, looking down at me. Blood poured from his hands in a macabre waterfall, and there was a broken look on his face as he screamed something to me across the vast space. I couldn’t hear him, though; the frozen wind ripped his words away and tossed them up as an offering to the barren sky. He gave up after a while and stared down to watch as the blood ran thick through his fingers.
The cold whispered its teasing susurrus into my ears, its pleading too tantalizing to resist for long. I gave in and lay down on the glacial cushion of snow, staring up at the sky above, and Daniel picked up yelling again. I knew he could see them—the shadows. They drew long and tall from the tree line, creeping forward like skeletal wraiths, their fingers lengthening under the tainted light of the malevolent moon.
I was frozen to the ground, the snow entombing me in its icy embrace. It was crimson now, and I could smell the metallic tang of blood. There was sound, too. I barely noticed it at first—a low hissing, growing in depth and pitch until it rose into a sonorous roar. The beating of my heart slowed in my ears until there was barely the echo of it to keep me conscious, and then…
Silence.
Like cotton wool in my ears. A silence so profound, it spoke of eternity and of being alone. Above, the stars pulsed in the sky like the distant lights of a city, only to be interrupted by the flight of a solitary bird flying with haste across the breach. And then, his voice. It was just one word, but the sound of it was like falling into a chasm of misery and pain and I knew I would never hit the bottom. Just keep falling and falling, with that word echoing in my ears:
“Run!”
My hands shook as I pulled myself up in bed. My hair wouldn’t stay tucked behind my ears, and I gave up even trying after three failed attempts. I needed to breathe. I blew out a long, steady breath while I tried to relax my body.
The cold had been so vivid, the fear in Daniel’s face so real. I shuddered and pushed it out of my head. It was only a bad dream. Surely a bad dream or two was to be expected given what was happening in my life right now? I heaved myself out of bed and looked at my watch on the nightstand where I had left it. It was past midday.
I quickly pulled a brush through my hair and got dressed, swapping clammy nightclothes for my favorite green shirt and a pair of black jeans from my bag. Peering out into the corridor, I was only able to make out a couple of feet illuminated by the bedroom light. In a few turns I would be back at the hangar, but fear still pulsed through me as I took my first tentative step.
As I did, my foot hit something solid, and my heart leapt into staccato overdrive. The bulky Maglite Daniel had carried the day I arrived rocked silently on its side a few feet away. Huh, I breathed, here lies Farley Hope. Died of cardiac arrest, aged eighteen.
I scooped up the flashlight and turned it on, my confidence mounting as I made my way back. It really wasn’t so scary when you had some light and didn’t think you’d gone blind. The hangar was only a single turn away when I noticed the crack of bright light lancing out from underneath one of the doors. Aldan’s room.
My pace slowed to a complete stop outside the door. Listening hard for sounds within, I held my breath and closed my eyes to concentrate. Nothing.
Curiosity was the only logical thing that could have spurred me to push against the door, half wanting to stay and half wanting to run away. I quelled my rising nerves and stepped closer so I could peek into the room. When I saw inside, I relaxed for the first time in days.
Agatha had been so certain of my safety, and now, looking down upon the unconscious man lying in the bed, I understood why. Aldan was still, his eyes closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. He was comatose.
The old man must have been at least fifty. A thick shock of unruly hair, so grey it was almost white, lay about his head on the pillow. He would have fit your average hospital patient stereotype except for the Styx t-shirt he wore. His closed eyes gave him a peaceful air.
I hesitated before entering the room. Daniel’s voice played out in my head: Just don’t bother him, okay. He’s sick, and he doesn’t need strangers harassing him. But how could you harass someone who was unconscious? And, more than anything, who cared what Daniel said? He was a jackass. It was going to take a while to get over him trying to make me look like an idiot, and going into Aldan’s room seemed like a good way to show him I didn’t give a damn about what he said.
I went closer to the bedside and looked down at Aldan, half expecting the old man to sit bolt upright and start yelling. He didn’t. He looked so serene. How could he be like the other guys, the ones that wanted to kill me? He looked like a trimmed down version of Santa. And he liked Styx, for crying out loud.
I was so distracted by Aldan that it took a few moments to notice the hundreds of books that lined the walls. The shelves ran from the high ceiling, dusted with a cobweb here and there, down to the floor. There was nothing else in the room save a small bedside table, the lamp that lit the room, and a small leather chair on the other side of the bed. A throw was neatly folded over the back of it, suggesting someone spent a lot of time there.
I studied the rows of books. I’d never had great luck not breaking things in stores, and my instincts warned that this might be a good time to look with my eyes and not with my hands. Most of the books had no inscriptions on their worn leather spines. The few that did left me curious. I walked the perimeter of the room, taking in the various titles as I went.
Mastering Eternal Physics.
The Unknowable Trickery of the Mind.
Idiom.
Revolution of the Human Condition.
None of the authors’ names were familiar, and I’d certainly never heard any of the titles before. When I’d circled the room, I returned to Aldan’s bedside and examined his face again. The fine veins visible in his eyelids expanded and contracted with the flow of his blood, and a faint rhythm throbbed at his temple.
It was then that I noticed the ragged scar. It ran from the corner of his jaw down his neck in a thick arc that terminated just before his Adam’s apple. Definitely a contender as to why he’s in this condition, I mused. But on closer inspection the puckered skin looked to have been healed for a long time. A well-worn battle scar.
Every part of me screamed that I shouldn’t, but something irresistible pulled me forward towards the bed. I reached out to touch the scar with my index finger. The skin looked shiny and smooth, but how did it feel? My fingertip touched the slick surface of the twisted flesh, felt warmth, and then…
What the…?
I was paralyzed. Couldn’t move a single muscle. Something wasn’t right. The air in my lungs began to vibrate, faster and faster, until it was burning up inside me. Escape! my mind demanded, but my body wouldn’t…no, couldn’t oblige. I’d grabbed hold of something too, too hot and couldn’t let go. Why couldn’t I unclench my jaw?
Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN. PAIN!
It throbbed around my nervous system, growing and growing until there was nothing else. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. The pressure inside my head, small at first, swelled until it pushed at the inside of my skull, then exploded, all fireworks and color. I could even taste it, acidic, like licking a battery. But there was something else…
Let go! Let go! Let go before—
Suddenly the ground was gone. My stomach lurched, and I was weightless for a second before my back slammed against the far wall. There was a sickening, twisting crunch… falling…and then my head cracked against bare concrete. Teeth smashed against teeth, a strangled gasp escaped my lips, and then the lights were most definitely out.
CHAPTER TEN
Kinda Hurting