I Am the Storm

by Trisha Lynn Halaas

  The nails fall to the ground, their job complete. I grab them and move into the tomb. The boulder rolls shut automatically behind me Indiana Jones style. It’s silent inside. No more rushing water or wind to fill my ears. I walk over to Shane and kneel beside him. The tears continue and are soon joined with deep, mournful sobs.

  “I miss you so much, Shane,” I cry.

  Then I pray: “Please God, take care of my brother, please make sure—”

  I’m cut off by a loud whooshing, wind-like sound. The sound is soon accompanied by actual wind. It blows around the small enclosure. My hair flies around my head in the tornado-like gusts. Shane remains untouched, his fabric barely affected in this wind tunnel.

  Then, the windstorm is replaced with the sound of circuitry. It zips and zaps—a motherboard’s hardwires trying to connect. Then, a flash of light. A figure soars down into the tomb with me. It’s Shane’s form but not of any earthly element. It glows orange as fire but circuited like electricity. Bigger, too—radiating light. The spirit form drops down, sits on the side of the driftwood. Then, it lies down melding into his body.

  Suddenly, Shane sits up. Looking just as himself, but not completely. He’s see-through. In fact, the entire tomb is now see-through. I’m looking at a sunset landscape somewhere. A lake just ahead of me; although, I can still see the tomb’s outline—nearly transparent.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask, stunned.

  “Good to see you too, Lyv,” he stands up, laughing as though that was the funniest line ever written for TV. We hug. He feels solid but still semi-transparent. He’s a spirit.

  “Where’ve you been?” I ask him.

  He explains to me that he is in Spirit World, which is kind of similar to Purgatory. The planes overlap in this tomb. I realize I’m glimpsing the Spirit World from earthbound eyes.

  “So this is a—”

  “Vortex,” he finishes.

  “Were you in Heaven?”

  “Not quite,” he replies. “There is Heaven, but we’re all waiting for it, no matter which dimension. See, there’s levels in the Spirit World, Lyv. You work your way up. You don’t have the physical needs like you do on Earth, and ego is gone, but pain and want... Those remain.” He looks off into the sunset. “As does love, magnified. Everything’s amplified here, Lyv. It’s like the subwoofer in the Mustang, but with feelings too. We do have senses. They’re different though. Better. It’s definitely better than Earth, but it’s not ‘Heaven.’

  Colors are brighter, and selfish worries turn into concern for loved ones, as we have to watch and bear with them their crosses. But—we can help.

  And, time’s different here. A year to you is like an hour to us. Except we don’t observe time. It simply doesn’t exist. We are only aware of it through watching you.

  There’s still a feeling of waiting. Knowing there’s something even better than all this, Lyv. Somewhere with no pain or want. And figuring out what to do to get there.” He punctuates the last word with a fist against stone.

  “If there even is anything,” he finishes, spinning away from the wall. He kicks a small pebble. “I don’t know, Lyv. Way I see it, we just gotta keep helping each other. And if that means I have to do it from here, then that’s what we gotta do.”

  “I wholeheartedly disagree, Shane,” I say, dramatically uncrossing my arms and splaying them outward. I shake my head. “Don’t you realize that will just make it easier for Levi to keep trying? We need you, here. In human form. Okay, I need you here.”

  “I know you do, Lyvie, but Levi’s been doing his thing since the very beginning. We both know that. God decides when it will end. So if it happens, it happens. Roll with it.”

  “Roll with it?” I stare at him—completely incredulous. “Roll with it? Are you kidding me, Shane?”

  “Dude. You know it’s all gonna be gravy.”

  “Oh my gosh, bro. Now is so not the time. Let’s recap: You are a spirit. If your earthbound body gets destroyed by Lucifer, himself, who just so happens to be, walking around like Jim Jones out there getting people to drink the purple Kool-Aid, I don’t ever get you back.”

  “Not in this body,” he says, referring to his human state, not the ethereal vision I saw him drop in with.

  “Okay, so, ‘Spirit Shane’ is our back-up. What’s the plan to get you back to ‘Earthbound Shane’?”

  He turns back to the wall. “You gotta get me my hammer, Lyv,” he says.

  “Levi’s got it,” I reply.

  “Yep. And, he’s waiting for you in—”

  “Hell,” I finish for him.

  “Yes.”

  “You brought the skates?” he asks.

  “Of course, but what—”

  He cuts me off: “You’ll know when you need them.”

  “Lots of hockey going on down there, Shane? Didn’t think they’d be able to make ice with all the fire going on.”

  He laughs: “No, Lyvs. It’ll all make sense.”

  “Okay, well, how do I get there?”

  “You brought the staff, right?”

  I take the necklace off and hold it in my hand.

  “Is there a phrase? Prayer?” I ask.

  “Not sure,” Shane replies, shrugging casually. Thumbs hooked in pockets. Just another day.

  I look at the underside of the snake and spot carved writing. “The Lord said, ‘Throw it to the ground,’” I read aloud.

  “So…” He makes a gesture with his hand that says, ‘Anytime now.’

  I picture him not too long ago making the same gesture when I couldn’t choose which ice cream flavor I wanted. I savored every sample in the parlor before making a choice.

  “Okay, Shane,” I say with trepidation. I don’t know what these relics are capable of.

  Still, I throw down the necklace. For an instant nothing happens. We look at each other and shrug.

  Then—movement at our feet. The snake grows rapidly while becoming life-like; actually, maybe alive. Big. Larger than any natural snake I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen documentation of some pretty massive serpents. I fling myself against the wall. It slithers curiously around the cavern. I freeze. A petrified statue. Paralyzed.

  I look at Shane doing the exact same thing. Great.

  “What should we do?” I ask as it slinks toward me.

  “No clue,” he replies, looking around the room as if an ancient cave painting may appear with the answer.

  Flick. Flick. Flick—against my toe. In contradiction of everything I stand for, I lower my eyes. Yep. A huge snake’s tongue is darting against my baby toe.

  “Oh my gosh, Shane,” I manage, panic rising.

  “Settle down,” he says, still scanning the wall.

  “What is it?” I ask, too terrified to move. A scaly body is now creeping over my feet as it makes its way toward Shane.

  “There’s writing above your head. Trying to make it out,” he replies, squinting his eyes. The cold reptile flesh finishes its tortuous slinking path. Onward toward Shane.

  “‘Reach out your hand and take it by the tail.’”

  “That’s all you, broseph,” I say, still glued in place.

  “Trust me, sis. I got that already.” He’s used to this process of elimination.

  The snake navigates around his ankles but doesn’t touch them. Lucky. Then I think of his next part in the plan. Not really.

  “Okay. Okay. I’m doing this,” he says, rubbing his palms together and then on his thighs.

  “You got this.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’m doing this.” He continues to rub his pants.

  “You got this,” I say again, staring at the slithering monstrosity.

  “Okay. Okay. I’m doing this.” Rubbing hands together again.

  “Shane.” Like brother, like sister.

  “Okay. Okay, I—”

  “Just grab him!”

  The snake’s tail comes within reach. Shane extends a large hand that barely wraps around a quarter of the body. The snake jerks hard.
Fast. Shane holds the tail with two hands. The muscular body whips back-and-forth. It flings its head fiercely.

  Then—it freezes. Shrinks. Hardens. A tall staff now occupies Shane’s hand. It’s wooden and curved. Knotty. Ancient.

  Again—movement at our feet. We both look down.

  The ground vanishes before our eyes. It appears as if we stand on glass; the only thing separating us from the ocean. Beneath us—a deep blue abyss.

  “Whoa,” Shane says, spinning in a circle. I follow suit.

  “Look—there’s a shark.”

  Sure enough, a Great White swirls menacingly beneath us. Also, a stingray and a group of rainbow fish. Mesmerizing.

  “Whoa, a killer whale,” I say in awe. A giant black and white Shamu now passes below us.

  “What’s next?” He asks, squatting down to study the ocean life.

  “Here, let me see it.” He passes me the staff distractedly.

  “There’s an octopus… jellyfish—look, Lyv.” I immediately rush over. I love jellyfish. All floating around as baby ballerina tutus complete with glowing ribbons. A school of them pirouette beneath his outstretched finger.

  I go back to inspecting the staff and am pleased to find it too has an engraving. “It says something, Shane.”

  “Whoa, that thing’s scary.”

  “What?”

  He points.

  It’s too far down to see clearly, but terrifying nonetheless. It has two long spindly arms with hands and fingers similar to human. It is ghost white with a fish-like tail, although longer, resembling an eel. The head features no eyes. A giant mark slices where the mouth should be.

  “What the hell?” A quiver runs up my spine. Flash to the Leviathan sketch. Not the one with seven heads. Thank God. This one isn’t as detailed as the picture. Not quite formed—an earlier stage of evolution.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “It looks like a primordial Leviathan.”

  “Levi.”

  “Yep, must be a newbie.”

  “Rookie demon.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, what does it say?” he asks, standing up to join me.

  “‘And the Lord said to Moses, ‘But lift up your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea to divide the water.’”

  He looks over my shoulder at the crude indentation and then the sea below us.

  “Let’s say a prayer like we did that one time with the car,” he says.

  He’s referring to the time we snuck the Mustang out to our cottage in Turquoise. When it was time to jet, the car wouldn’t start. We had to beat the wardens home in time for a ‘family meeting.’ There we were—hands clasped over the battery—a prayer to Heaven. It was answered; we figure now it’s mandatory.

  We clutch each other’s hands over the staff, bow our heads, and say a Hail Mary.

  “You ready for this, Lyv?”

  I look at the terrifying depths below.

  “No,” I say uncertain. Then resolve. Purpose. “But I want you back, Shane. For real.” With that—I lift the staff and stretch my hand over the waters churning below. An unseen force grabs the rod and pounds it into the floor. The glass shatters.

  “I love you, Lyv.” I hear Shane’s voice go faint as the waters rise around me separated by an invisible barrier.

  “Love you,” I yell, praying he heard me.

  Then, I get sucked down through white rapids. I’m in the center of a massive waterfall, although flowing in the wrong direction. As the water rushes past me, I have a fleeting thought involving that white rabbit’s hole and his stoned caterpillar.

  I find myself landing softly on a mountain of sandy ground. The whooshing water has ceased.

  So, this is what the bottom of the ocean looks like. I look through the ‘glass-water’ walls. It really is just mountains upon mountains of packed sand as far as the eye can see. The glass surrounds me, a circular aquarium. The sea life goes about as business as usual. I see coral reefs, a variety of colors. Mounds of sand in every direction. A shark. A massive squid—frighteningly massive.

  I walk closer to the glass toward an area that is kind of murky and very dark. The glass tunnel seems to glow for a few feet but utter blackness after that. A school of fish disrupt the sand in my eyesight, and it clouds in front of me.

  Suddenly—a spindly hand slams against the glass. I shriek and jump back. The horrifying blur of a face follows. The hands scratch at the glass fruitlessly. Child-like. Then it turns around and its eel tail waves away—a shrinking alarm.

  Not sure what to do next, I check my bag and make sure all items are in attendance and did not get lost in the journey. Everything is accounted for.

  I spin in a circle looking for clues. I look upward. “What do I do now?” I ask Shane.

  “Well, get me out of here already so I can help,” Persephone answers.

  35

  I pull out my Slab. Her expedition outfit has been replaced with a ruffled bathing suit top, an old-fashioned swimming cap adorned with colorful flowers, thick goggles, and, for the love of God—

  “Is that a mermaid tail?” I ask, pointing to the long glittery fin fitted to where her legs should be.

  “I’ve always wanted to be a mermaid,” she replies, wistfully.

  I want to ask more about that fin, including where I can get one, but we have business to attend to.

  “This is supposed to be Hell, right, Seph?” I ask, looking around.

  “Not technically,” she responds. “Hell is in the middle of Earth—where lava comes from. Fire is definitely an accurate description.”

  I flop down on the sand. “Well, how do I get there? Dig?” I ask, with a weak laugh. I squeeze my hands in the sand and let it fall through my fingers. Sands in an hourglass.

  Persephone’s hologram swims through the air in languid circles. “Nope,” she says spiritedly. “All you gotta do is sleep.”

  “Sleep? Go to sleep? Okay, even if I could, how does that get me anywhere besides this sandy ocean floor?”

  “Okay, you remember that Hell overlaps Earth, right? Even if it’s technically in the planet, the plane overlaps life here on Earth, especially when you sleep. Both Heaven and Hell intersect during shuteye. Glorious dreams, and…”

  “Terrifying nightmares,” I finish. “Hell.”

  “Yep,” she says with a somersault above my head.

  “So, just go to sleep?” I ask, knowing full well that’s impossible.

  “Yes, I’ll play your sleepy-time music.”

  I lie down on the sand with my head cradled in my arm and listen to the familiar cords of my favorite sleepy melodies. I have a hard time believing I will fall asleep on the ocean floor, surrounded by water, held by an imaginary barrier with creatures of all kinds floating around me, but somehow, I do.

  When I open my eyes, I’m enveloped in complete blackness. I don’t have the best night vision, so I rub my eyes once again to make sure they’re open. As they adjust, I begin to make out my immediate surroundings in the moonlight.

  The water wall and accompanying sea life has disappeared. I hear an angry ocean beckoning below the rocky cliff I occupy. I look around. I’m in a vast, expansive area. As landmarks begin to take shape in the moon’s beam, I see dark puddles spattered along a natural rock enclave. An enclave that I recall is sometimes repurposed as an arena.

  I see the platform where Levi’s original Great Reveal was planned. With horror, I gather that the dark puddles are not caused from natural dips in the mountainous landscape. No, they’re not depressions too deep for moonlight to reach. Instead, pools of blood. It’s then that I realize I’m not in present day.

  And that, yes, I’m in Hell.

  I know what I’m going to find on the ‘stage.’ Somehow this area of rock has been etched and smoothed by the wind for years creating a half-dome with a perfectly flat-raised area. The stage. The alcove.

  “Well, Levi, where are you? Such a sick sense of humor you have. I had no idea,” I call to the sky. �
�So, what? I just re-live this day? Then you show yourself?”

  I drop down on the ground. I can’t do this. There’s no way. I got his body to the tomb somehow that day; I can’t do it again. I pull Persephone out; maybe she can help. Nothing. There’s no signal in Hell, I guess. Ha.

  But you have to. A voice sounds in my head—Shane’s.

  Determined to get to Levi and seeing no other recourse besides reenacting the harrowing events that lie ahead of me, I start off toward Shane with resolution. Quicker I go through it, the quicker I escape the clutches of Hell. At least, that’s what I figure.

  I’m not immune to the grievous feelings that consume and choke me as I approach Shane’s fallen form. I perform all the actions I did that day. Find the driftwood, cover him with the cloth, secure him to the wood. Then I begin the trek.

  I drop Shane’s heavy form as soon as I try to lift him. Several attempts occur before I comprehend the fact that an unseen force will not be helping me with the task this time around. The shoes won’t turn into nails either—most likely due to the fact that they hadn’t turned at this point the first go-round. I move inch-by-inch as the minutes tick by. My muscles become sore and heavy. They start to atrophy. It gets dark, then light again. This time, I don’t sleep. I just need to get him to the tomb, I reckon.

  As the next day begins, I have made little progress. I stop to rest and fall asleep.

  I jolt awake from a nightmare involving a particularly horrific day, before I realize where I am, which is not where I ended up last night.

  It’s dark and as my eyes adjust, I realize I’m living a sick and sadistic version of Groundhog’s Day.

  With renewed vigor, I attack the task before me, yet again. Same routine. I gain a few feet of extra distance this time before falling asleep.

  With each repeat, I gain a little more ground. Still, the tomb is way too far away to make the distance.

  Day-after-day, I scratch tally marks on the arena’s wall. They remain stationary throughout each refresh.

  After 10,000 days, I still haven’t aged.

  Some days, I don’t move from the ground.