“Do you happen to know,” I asked carefully, “what color her eyes were?”
Rachel looked at me curiously, but answered. “Mama always said her eyes were the brightest…”
Blue. I said the word with her.
When my head had cleared enough, I told Rachel that I had to be going, and she thanked me again for the book. I thanked her for the stories.
I didn’t go home right away. First I stopped at the Mennonite cemetery, bright beneath the summer sun, and found the grave of Anna Hostetter, born Anna B. Huber. It wasn’t hard. I walked right to it. I looked at her engraved name on the stone and whispered:
“‘Remember me and so will I
Remember you till I die.’”
She had remembered me. She had carried me all the days of her life. And I would always remember her.
I got back into my car, ready to write the stories. My block was broken. I felt as though I could tell a hundred tales, a thousand. Wonder had returned.
A Trick of the Light
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A Trick of the Light
Current mood: expectant
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
I could just as easily have put this in Romance and Relationships, or maybe even Travel and Places. But I figured here was best. That way I can let other people know, and maybe they can do something to help.
But what I don’t want you to know is who I am, and that’s why I’m going anonymous—my name isn’t Andy and my girlfriend’s name isn’t Kyle, and everybody else’s name is changed too.
But I have to let people know, because it’s really important, more important than you can guess. When you get right down to it, it’s the most important thing of all, the darkness and the light.
Nighttime was when I noticed the shadows in the hospice. And when I saw the lights too. At first I thought they were just a trick of the light, since I had tears in my eyes a lot when I was there, and tears can do funny things to your vision.
I had good reason to cry. Kyle was dying. I think I loved Kylie ever since we were little kids. When we played at recess her blonde hair was so bright I thought the sun had gotten caught in it. Sometimes—not very often—I’d get close enough to her so that I could smell her hair, a cross between lemons and fresh strawberries. And when Kylie laughed, well, it wasn’t like other girls, high-pitched and squeaky, but like wind chimes, honest to God.
But it wasn’t until this past year that she really started to notice me and we started going out. I knew she was having problems, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until she went into the hospital.
It was something with her blood, and she’d been on meds for years, but they didn’t work anymore, so she had to get transfusions, and then she started getting them more and more often, which sucked. She was great right after getting one, but in a few days she’d start looking pale and get tired real easy. Her veins started getting screwed up too, and they put this port thing in her chest around her collarbone so the doctors could get blood and give her transfusions without digging for a vein, which really hurt her.
She got an infection right after that, and went into the hospital. It was okay at first. She talked and smiled, and we played some games that fit on her bed tray, like Yahtzee, which she really liked, and card games. But she went downhill fast, got weaker, barely responded when I talked to her, and finally the doctors said it was acute leukemia. They couldn’t do anything else for her, and they sent her to this hospice. To die.
I couldn’t believe it. Just a few weeks before, she’d been fine, been my Kylie, my girlfriend, who I’d finally gotten together with that fall after loving her so long. We watched DVDs together (a lot of sci-fi), went to movies and football games and the mall, and when she’d see something she really liked, like a cool tee or a neat cap or something, I’d get it for her, just because I was so happy to be with her, and she’d laugh and thank me and give me a hotter kiss than usual when I took her home, and now she was in a hospice, not eating, barely drinking, just waiting to die. Life just wasn’t fair.
Death wasn’t either, so let me get to that part of it.
The hospice was nice. If you had to die, I guess it was a pretty cool place to do it. On the outskirts of town, about a mile from the biggest shopping mall in the county, so I could drive over there and get a cappuccino when I needed a break. Even though there were only eighteen patient rooms, the building was big, with two wings and gardens and all these other rooms where you could go and meditate and stuff. There was a big kitchen and a TV room in each wing, and you could bring in your own food and even cook (there was a microwave, so I used that sometimes).
Kyle’s room was stupidly awesome compared to the hospital—a really nice big bed that went all different directions to make her comfortable, two easy chairs, a big couch that I slept on a lot, a cabinet with a TV and VCR, a bathroom with all the medical equipment in it so we didn’t have to look at it all the time, and an alcove with a table and chairs and a window seat that looked out onto the garden. There was even a patio with those French doors, but it was too cold to go out there.
The people were great too. Holly was the neatest. She was one of the night nurses, a little younger than my mom, and I talked with her a lot. See, I was there with Kyle more than anybody else. Her dad walked out a long time before, and her mom has two jobs. She came over when she could, but the medical bills were adding up and she had to work as much as possible. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with Kyle, because she loved her and all, but by the time Kyle went into the hospice it was like she didn’t know who was there and who wasn’t. She had a lot of pain, so they kept giving her morphine, which was good, but it made her dopey and she slept a lot. Even when her eyes were open it was like she was sleeping. I held her hand a lot of the time, but she didn’t squeeze back.
Christmas vacation had started, and since I didn’t have school to worry about, I just stayed there as much as I could. A few of Kyle’s friends came in to visit—Annie and Drew and Liz and Mike and even Rick, who dated her for a while—but the whole dying thing creeped them out and none of them came back a second time. That was okay with me. I just wanted to be with her alone as much as I could. And I didn’t like Rick around anyway—he was dating Kyle before she started going with me, and I was afraid he was still jealous, since Kylie zoned in on me pretty quick after they broke up. My mom and dad were okay with my being at the hospice. I guess they knew it wouldn’t be long.
Late one night I was half-lying, half-sitting on the couch, wondering whether or not to close my eyes and try to sleep. I was starting to turn my head toward the back of the couch when I caught something out of the corner of my eye. It was like a white light that hadn’t been there before, close to Kyle, right above her bed. I expected it to vanish when I looked directly at it, but it didn’t, not right away. It stayed there for maybe three or four seconds, and then it just kind of winked out.
But what weirded me out even more was the shadow. I hadn’t noticed it when the light was there, but once its brightness was gone I became aware of what seemed like a crouching, waiting darkness in a corner of the room, just a puddle of shadow that seemed to shiver. I shivered myself when I saw it. Then it dissolved like smoke.
I swallowed hard, then stood up and walked over to where I’d seen it. There was nothing there. I looked above the bed, where I’d seen the light, but that was totally gone too.
“Hey…”
I jumped about three feet in the air. When I came down I saw Holly standing near the door. “You scared me,” I said.
“Sorry. I just came on shift, thought I’d see if you were here. You okay?”
I nodded. “Just had a little scare.”
“What?”
“Oh…it was dumb. Just a trick of the light, or an afterimage or something.” I told Holly what I’d seen and she didn’t say anything, but she looked funny, like she was trying to see inside me, and I thought maybe I hit on something, so I said, “That wasn’t, like, the
light, was it?”
“The light?” she said, like she didn’t know what I meant.
“You know. The one that people are supposed to go to when…they die.” I still had trouble with the whole dead thing too. I guess I thought if I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t happen.
“I’m not sure, Andy,” she said. “It probably was just an afterimage, like you thought.”
Still, I saw the light again, maybe once or twice a night, always around Kyle, and always when I looked away. When I looked back, it disappeared. The shadow was there too, or at least it seemed like it. It was harder to be sure, because it was, well, a shadow.
Christmas came, and Kyle’s mom spent most of the day with her, so I had the holiday with my family. It wasn’t all that great. I’d done some shopping for my mom and dad and my older brother Chris, who was back from college, and my presents from them were cool, but to tell the truth I was glad when the day was over and I could get back to the hospice. It had started to snow, and I think Kyle’s mom was relieved to be able to go home. She was pretty tired. The way she worked, she was always tired.
The snow really kicked in after she left, and I stood at the window for a long time and watched it come down. Then I realized that Kylie had stopped breathing. It wasn’t because I had super senses or anything; it was just that her breathing had gotten pretty loud, and when it stopped I noticed it. It happened all the time now. I went to her and just stood there looking at her. I knew there wasn’t anything to do. She was here to die, and they wouldn’t try to resuscitate her. But after maybe forty-five seconds or so, she hitched in a breath that made me jump, and started breathing again.
I should have been used to it, but it still freaked me out, like she was dead and then came back to life again. The nurses had told me it was apnea, like people have when they snore, or maybe Cheyne-Stokes breathing, I get the two mixed up, but it’s what happens when people get close to dying.
Then I heard something else, a clicking in Kyle’s throat, like dice rattling in a Yahtzee cup, and I’d never heard that before. I pushed the button to call a nurse, and in a minute or two Lucinda, one of the night nurses, showed up. I told her about the breathing, and she listened to it and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Andy,” she said, “but I don’t think she has much time. Maybe less than an hour or so.”
I swallowed hard. “Is Holly around?” I asked. For some reason I wanted Holly to be there.
“She should have gotten here by now, but the snow…the roads are really bad.” She paused. “Do you want me to stay with you, or leave you alone with Kyle?”
“I’m okay alone,” I said, and Lucinda put Kylie on her side so she could breathe easier and then left.
Kylie died ten minutes later.
It was like a movie. Her throat was rattling, and then it just stopped, and a breath came out so long and so soft, and then there was nothing. I waited and waited, but she didn’t breathe again.
That’s when I saw the light.
It was right over her head, a small white light, and something from Kyle, a gleaming shadow, came up and out of her body and went into the light, and the light dimmed and vanished. I was all alone. Kylie was gone.
And I knew that something was wrong. Something bad had happened, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t feel any peace, just the opposite.
Then Holly came into the room. Her coat and hat were still on, and were wet with snow. Her boots were dripping as she crossed the carpet to me. “Is she gone?” she asked. I nodded, and she saw the look on my face. “Into the light?” I nodded again, and Holly’s face puckered up. “Damn,” she said softly. “I wanted to be here—I tried, but the snow…”
“It wasn’t right, was it?” I asked. “The light?”
She shook her head. “Sit down, Andy. I have to talk to you.”
Holly took off her coat and hat, and we sat across from each other at the small table in the alcove. She looked at me so hard I thought her eyes were going to cut right through me. “You know,” she said. “You’ve seen the light and the shadow. And you knew something was wrong with the light. Andy…you’re one of us.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. Kylie was dead, and I should have been crying, but instead I felt like I was on the edge of something big and scary and exciting, and I was mad at myself for feeling that way.
“Did you ever see anything like that before, Andy? Think back. Think hard.”
I did, and I remembered. “My grandpa,” I said. “My dad took me to see him in the hospital—my mom didn’t want him to. I was sitting there when Dad was talking to him, and I saw…a shadow in the corner. I cried, and Dad took me out. Grandpa died that night.”
She nodded. “I can see them too. I wanted to get here so I could be with Kyle when it happened, and warn her away from the light, guide her into the shadow. That’s what we do.”
“We?”
“The ones who see. And know. There are more of us than you’d think, some in every hospital, every hospice, everyplace people die. We know each other, but nobody else knows us, and that’s how we like it. They’d never believe us. They’d think we were crazy.”
“I don’t…”
“People say go into the light when you die. No. That’s the worst thing you can do. People think the light is good, but when you die it’s the darkness that’s good. It’s comforting and soothing, and you have to go through it to get to whatever’s on the other side.”
“And…what is?”
Holly shook her head. “I have no idea. Never been there. But I do know what’s in the light.”
“What?”
“Nothing good. It fools people, sucks in their spirits, takes the ones who are desperate to stop suffering but who are still afraid to die. And in the light, they don’t ever die, but they keep dying. Their pain goes on, and the light blinds them and burns them and keeps them forever.” Holly paused and gave a little shudder. “Some of us think it’s how the idea of Hell got started. And the more people it pulls in, the more powerful it gets.”
“Are you saying…it’s like an entity ?”
“Might as well call it that as anything else. But what it boils down to is that the shadow, the darkness is true and peaceful death, and the light is nothing but torment. You can see them both, Andy—you can see the edges—so you’re one of those who has to know the truth so you can help.”
“Help who? Help how? “
“Become one of us, and try to save the dying. Urge them away from the light and into the darkness. Places like this are where we work, because the light is stronger here. It’s absorbed so many dying people over the years.”
This was crazy. “Look,” I said, “my girlfriend just died, and if what you say is true, she’s been sucked into some kind of monster, and all you can think about is recruiting me to be a…a nurse for dead people?”
“We call ourselves soul catchers.”
“Well, good for you, but, I mean, I want to help Kylie, not somebody else! I want to get her out of…wherever she is!”
She held up her hands to quiet me, and I closed my eyes and tried to take it all in. “You can help her,” Holly said. “But it’s not going to be easy.” She looked scared, and her next words told me why. “You’ve got to go in after her. Into the light.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“Not so fast. Let me tell you what you’re up against. It’s hardly ever been done. There has to be a strong emotional link between the person going in and the person they want to save. Most soul catchers don’t have that, so once they’re in the light…well, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. You might get lost and never get out again.”
“Screw that. I’ve got a link. So what do I have to do?”
“You have to find Kyle…feel your way to her, and then bring her back to the edge of the light and take her out. Then, finally, guide her into the darkness.”
“Fine.”
“No. Not so fine. It’s incredibly dangerous. You don’t make it, you’re t
rapped in the light forever. I’ve never done it myself—hardly anybody has—but it’s bad in there, really bad. And even if you make it back…things might not be the same again.”
“I don’t care.” I wasn’t brave, really. All I could think about was Kylie, who I loved so much, trapped inside that light, its brightness burning her, feeling the pain of dying forever. I couldn’t keep living knowing that I had let that happen and hadn’t tried to do something about it. “What do I do?”
I did what Holly told me. I sat next to Kyle’s body and held her dead hand, and just thought about the light. I did what so many people want the dying to do—go to the light, go to the light. I thought hard, and before too long I began to see it. It was as if I had called it and it came. I don’t think it even suspected that I was trying to cheat it. I don’t think it even cared one way or another. I think it was just hungry, and thought it might get fed again.
Soon it was bright as the sun, and right in front of me, just above Kyle’s head. I took one last look at her face, her dead eyes partly open, her mouth wide, and then I went into the light.
It was easy as falling off a cliff. My mind just slipped into it, and I was surrounded by blazing light on all sides. I could hardly see, but the first thing that struck me about being in the light wasn’t anything I saw. It was the smell. We don’t smell death much. I know the only time I ever smell it is when a mouse dies inside a wall in the house and it takes a couple of days for that sweet-bitter, sickening odor to go away.
This was a hundred times worse—a thousand. It was like everything that had ever died had crawled up into my brain through my nose. The whole world seemed made of rotting flesh, cells breaking down into pus, this thick, viscous liquid that coated my skin like water after rain.
And then it seemed like I was dying too. I could feel my body breaking down, the flesh becoming soft and slipping off my muscles, the muscles sliding off my bones, my eyes drying up inside my skull, my guts starting to liquefy and burst, the juices leaking out of me through every hole in my body.
The Night Listener and Others Page 28
