by T. R. Briar
Rayne wheeled himself the rest of the way into the room, reaching forward to pick up the second teacup David had left out for him. He held it in his hands, feeling the warmth through the ceramic.
“So you came here to see for yourself. Now you know I’m real. So what now?” he asked.
“I was hoping you’d know. I mean, we don’t know where that place is, or why we go there. Sure, ‘Hell’ is the first thought that comes to mind. We both almost die, and suddenly, we’re surrounded by demons and damnation and God knows what else. But maybe it’s something less simple, like some weird shared hallucination between people like us.”
“Like us?” The events of that previous night pushed into Rayne’s mind. “Have you met anyone else that’s like us?”
“Not a soul. Just you and a bunch of demons.”
“I met someone last night.”
“You mean another human being? Someone who almost died, like we did?”
“I think so. She had just arrived. She remembered being shot, didn’t know if she was dead or not, but she was very coherent. I imagine if she does survive, it’ll be the same situation. I tried to explain what I could but then I woke up, and left her there all alone.”
“She’ll be fine, I’m sure. I mean, it’s just where our minds or something go, right? We can’t really get killed in a place like that, can we?”
“There are fates worse than death,” Rayne mused. “When I’m there, I come so close to losing my mind. What happens if we go mad? Does that world become our reality? And what happens when we eventually do die? Do we go to that place forever?”
Gabriel didn’t answer that; he didn’t seem to want to think about it. “There has to be someone we can ask. Maybe a priest or something?”
Rayne shook his head. “I doubt anything like that could really give us answers. Perhaps quote some scripture at us, but nobody would actually believe we wake up in Hell every night. I think—” He couldn’t believe he was suggesting this. “I wonder, perhaps somebody more native could tell us about it.”
“You mean those monsters? Now those things don’t talk. All the ones I meet just scream and attack me.”
“I think some of them can talk. I met at least one that did, though I don’t think I want to get any answers from it. But if one thing can talk, maybe something else can too. Wouldn’t hurt to look, as you said, it’s not like we can die in there.”
“But what about what you said?” Gabriel asked. “About fates worse than death?”
“What else can we do?”
“Not a lot, I suppose. So that’s it then? Next time we go there, we find some demon and make him talk?”
“If it’ll give us answers, then yes, that’s exactly what we should do.”
“Well all right, maybe we’re finally getting somewhere.”
Rayne relaxed, just a little. He sipped his tea and leaned back in his wheelchair. It felt rather strange to stare at Gabriel. At a glance he looked ordinary, but as Rayne gazed it almost felt as if he could peer deeper into him. Beneath that clean-cut physical form, he could almost see the haggard, exhausted man he’d met in the other world, with darkened eyes, a worn out face, and messy hair. There were a few patches of hair missing from his head, and what appeared to be a fresh cut across his forehead. He looked far worse than when Rayne had first encountered him, even though it had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen him. The vision focused, and it became quite surreal to see Gabriel in two different ways at once. Rayne convinced himself that he had to be imagining things, that he just remembered how Gabriel had looked the last time he saw him, and his imagination added to it, something like that.
“So, tell me,” Gabriel addressed him. “What sort of places have you seen since you started going there?”
“Well,” Rayne paused to think. “There was that mud field where we met, and that battlefield. I’ve seen a few more battlefields since then.”
“Any where they’re actually fighting?”
“Come again?”
“I’ve seen some places where it’s like, whole armies, battling forever. It’s like they don’t realize they’re dead; they just keep fighting and fighting, their limbs falling off, half bone, but they never stop.”
“Haven’t seen anything like that. Last night, I was in this place full of fire, with flames everywhere, and there was this large pit of lava swirling at the bottom. The air was so heavy, I couldn’t stand.”
“Now that sounds more like Hell. But I guess consistency’s too much to ask for. Nothing’s the same. I’m not even sure how anybody gets around in a place like that.”
“Have you ever been to more than one place in a single night?” Rayne asked.
“How so?”
“Like, you start out in one place, maybe a battlefield or something, and then all of a sudden, you’re in a different place entirely?”
“Once, I think. It was the second time we met. I was walking in this forest full of dying trees, and there were these bodies hanging everywhere. I started walking down this path, and suddenly everything shifted, and I couldn’t see ‘cause of all the mist everywhere. And then I heard you screaming ‘leave me alone!’ And that’s when the mist cleared, and I found you in that field.”
“I wonder if it’s possible for us to meet up at will, even if we all start out in different places. You somehow found me. Maybe it’s repeatable.”
“I wish I knew how. I guess if you screamed loud enough, I’d hear you again.”
“Can’t hurt to try.” Rayne wondered if it would be difficult to find Apolleta again, assuming she was still there.
Gabriel stood up, and returned his cup to the table. “I should get going,” he said, as he fumbled in his pockets. He pulled out a card and handed it to Rayne. “This is the hotel where I’m staying. I wrote down my room number if you need to call or visit.”
Rayne glanced over the card as he took it from him. He knew that hotel. It wasn’t far from him, and he knew how to get there if he had to, but it would be difficult in a wheelchair.
“How long are you planning to stay in Langfirth?” he asked.
Gabriel shrugged as he picked up his coat and put his hat on. “As long as it takes, I guess. With things the way they are, I can’t do my job, and if I can’t do my job, it’ll be hell getting re-elected. No point in going back for now. You’re my only ally right now, so I should stay close by.”
Rayne followed him to the door and held it open for him. Gabriel smiled with a faint sense of wistful cruelty in his lips.
“I suppose I’ll see you tonight.”
* * *
The rest of the day inched by. Rayne didn’t know if the night was something he should look forward to or dread. He couldn’t bear the anticipation of finding answers, but the underlying fear at how it could all go wrong dissuaded him from going to sleep at all. But he had no choice, he knew that.
Levi came home from school and went straight to his room to do his school work. He was still distant with Rayne after their talk from before. Rayne blamed himself, because he didn’t know how to talk to his son, how to reassure him that things would be all right, when he didn’t know himself.
He realized he’d forgotten to ask Gabriel if he’d lost any memories, or if this was unique to him. Of course, he could explain memory loss by the nature of his accident. No matter how hard he tried, his childhood stayed a forgotten mystery. Just a dog whose name he couldn’t recall, and a neighborhood bully whose face remained a blank. Sometimes he saw other things. Old houses—was he visiting them? Or had he moved around a lot as a child? They were never the same, them and the surrounding countryside. There was a small farming village, with a church in the very center, and a barn full of sheep. Then there was a dank cement room lined with beds. Boarding school perhaps? He recalled it was very cold, as if a blizzard outside had walled him in, covering the old windows and turning everything very dark.
Trying to stir up memories became tiresome. Rayne wheeled himself into his study and gl
anced over the law journals and medical texts that adorned the walls. Near the bottom of the shelf, he saw a few picture books. He reached down and pulled out a book of photography, filled with images of seascapes and islands. He’d always loved this book, even though the sharp, acrid smell of glossed paper always lingered on his fingers whenever he read it. The ocean was a calming thing to him, and looking at pictures of the sea stirred a sense of happiness within him.
It had been ages since the last time he’d visited the ocean. Not since before Levi had been born. Surprisingly, he remembered that day, at least somewhat. He and some of his mates from school had traveled abroad, and visited the coast together, taking a boat out into the water to go fishing, and swim beneath the night sky. The memory was blurry, and he couldn’t recall the faces or names of his companions, just the ocean itself. But it was better than a blank. The further back in time he tried to remember, the more holes cropped up, creating an inconsistent patchwork of thoughts that didn’t fit together at all, between what he could remember and what he should remember but couldn’t. Certain things persisted, like his memories of David going as far back as ninth year. Perhaps that was because his friend was an active presence in his life, while his parents never could be.
The stormy pictures in this book captivated him. He found the imagery of windswept tempests and catastrophic waves far more interesting than the calm oceans. He remembered the small squall that had stirred during his holiday, and sent their boat tumbling late into the fishing trip, yet he remembered it as the most fun part of all. He chided himself for being so childish. It was foolish; he and his friends could have been hurt, and he shouldn’t have enjoyed himself so much.
Time passed, and he began to feel sleepy. The world slipped away, part of a recognizable ordeal now. As his body fell asleep, Rayne could almost trace himself slipping between worlds, leaving his physical shape behind. He had learned by this point that there was no use in resisting this feeling. Rather than fear what was happening to him, his only slight regret was that he’d fallen asleep in his wheelchair. But it was too late now; he was already gone.
The world around him vanished, replaced by howling winds that tore across his face and shrieked like sharp talons against glass. Chaotic raindrops flew from every which way in the grey skies, with no clear sense of up or down, and Rayne plummeted through windswept air, his flesh torn by stinging water droplets. He had no idea which way he was going; for all he knew he was falling sideways.
He splashed into a freezing ocean, and the cold water numbed his flesh and sucked him in deeper. Disembodied hands clutched at his ankles, trying to drag him further down, but he resisted and forced his way to the surface. His head broke through and he gasped. The winds roared, drowning out all sound, and in every direction lay endless, turbulent ocean. Thousands of hands—twisted, decayed, and devoid of all color—broke through the water’s surface, seeking him. Some had bite marks on them, as if unknown creatures of the deep had fed upon them. Rayne swam above an endless black void, his toes tingling as he pondered just what lurked below him, waiting to strike. He picked a random direction and started to swim, hoping to find some kind of shore.
Above him, a spiraling maelstrom swirled eternally, wrought with furious lightning and the occasional crash of thunder. There was a beautiful, chaotic madness here, and Rayne couldn’t help stopping so he could stare into the eye of the storm, oblivious to the cold water, or the hands still clawing at him. He brushed them off, but more came, so he kicked them away. He glared at the ones visible above the water’s surface, and they hesitated, and retreated beneath the waves. He stared back up at the spiraling clouds, watching the rain fall into the ocean around him. Every so often, the occasional falling body broke up the clouds, and he watched as these descended into the ocean, never to resurface.
This wasn’t the best place for him to sit and stare, as more lost souls fell into the sea beside him. He swam in a dangerous storm, and every moment he wasted put his life deeper in danger. The hands brushed against him, but didn’t clutch so tightly, and he could shake them off. He continued to swim. Sometimes he dove deeper into the water, and passed by the floating corpses that tried in vain to hold him back. Then he surfaced again, listening as the roaring of the storm turned into muffled silence whenever he dipped his head back in the water. What started as a swim for survival became a thrill, and he started enjoying the cold rush. He ignored the voice inside that nagged him to hurry up and find land. He swam faster now, charging through the water with a speed and grace he never knew he had, moving his legs together as one to propel himself forward, and the wind rushed past him faster and faster. Everything was a blur now. Rayne felt a wicked grin cross his face. For once, he no longer felt powerless. He liked that.
A stray wave rocketed him out of the water, and he found himself flying across the ocean. He crashed back down, into the sea, but the sudden jolt snapped him out of his trance, and he saw shoreline off in the distance, obscured by fog. He swam towards it, less than thrilled about slowing down, and grabbed onto a small ice shelf rising over the waves. It chilled his hands when he touched it. He stayed there for a moment, half submerged in the water, trying to calm down after that incredible rush. A thick mist obscured much of this new land mass, while the ocean air behind him remained clear.
“You should not be here,” a voice whispered from the mist. Rayne looked up, yet saw nothing in the thick fog.
“Baines? Is that you?” he called out.
Someone stepped forward, stopping right by Rayne’s hand. Rayne looked past swirling black robes made out of ash and dust, and realized they’d met before. It was the strange, thin-faced creature that had been there in his hospital room, that only he could see. The creature now stared down at him, an amused grin on those white glowing lips. Rayne’s eyes went wide.
“You,” he whispered.
“Oh? You remember me.” The creature had thick voice like bones being crushed between rock. “Pretty careless, swimming around in a sea full of monsters. Your toes might get eaten.”
Rayne studied the creature. Perhaps it was the adrenaline still coursing through him, but as his initial shock faded, he wasn’t all that frightened. The skull-like leer on the creature’s face almost made it appear friendly.
“I take it you live here?” he asked the strange person.
The demonic being laughed, a long dry laugh that the howling winds swallowed whole.
“No one truly ‘lives’ here, boy,” he said. “You’ve come to a very dangerous place. Its guardian will swallow you up if you stay.”
“I can’t help it. Whenever I fall asleep, I always find myself here. It’s not like I want to come here every night.”
“You misunderstand me, boy,” the creature grinned. “I mean this realm. There are many other places in the Abyss you could have gone, but you chose this one, and neither of us should be here.”
“The Abyss? Is that what this world is called?”
“World? Oh, this is far more than any world. The Abyss is its own existence. Greater than any universe, in fact, all intermingled with the physical realm.”
“So, then, this isn’t Hell? I’m not here because I died?”
“Hell? Sure, mortals call it that too. But I prefer Abyss. This is where the damned come. Occasionally ones like you show up, sinners who haven’t died yet. You touched the face of death, so now your soul is called here when you lose consciousness, because, deep down, it’s your fate.” The creature nudged at Rayne’s hand with a clawed foot. “Now is not the best time to talk. If Tomordred finds us here, he’ll eat us both. He doesn’t like people encroaching on his master’s territory, unless they’ve been damned here.”
Rayne’s face fell. “Here? But this place seems so empty. I thought I was safe.”
The creature looked anxious, as anxious as a grinning monstrosity could look. He shifted, and scanned the fog for an unseen force.
“I do not sense his presence here now, but he could arrive at any moment, and it�
��s dangerous.”
“Then I’ll just swim away.”
“Do you want answers or not, boy?” The creature’s voice became forceful. Rayne chuckled at the idea that such a demonic entity could become frightened. “Are you laughing at me? Stop that!” The clawed foot raised up and slammed down on Rayne’s arm. The world shifted, and he sprawled on a barren grey plain of rock beneath a black sky, with the demon beside him.
“That was rude,” Rayne complained. “I take it this Tomordred doesn’t like you?”
“He’s never liked my kind. He considers us enemies of his master, and kills us on sight.”
“Your kind? So, you really are some manner of demon?”
“I am a hell reaper. But you may call me Darrigan.”
“Reaper? Like, the Grim Reaper?”
“I am he who gathers the souls of the damned once their bodies pass on, as all my kind do. Most souls come here willingly; they’re guided by an instinct that they belong here. But some resist, and it is our duty to find them and drag them down where they deserve to be.”
Rayne looked Darrigan over. “Is that why you were in my hospital room? To bring me back here?”
“If necessary. When that car hit you, I went to retrieve you, as you still maintained awareness, but then you showed up here on your own. By the time I finally found you, you’d returned to your body, and you were no longer dead. I was surprised you could still see me.”
“That’s not normal?”
“For a Realm Wraith? No, they usually can’t see the spiritual within the waking world. They only see me in dreams, when they become a part of my world.”
“A Realm Wraith?” Rayne sat himself up, more interested in his new companion. “Hold up, are you telling me I’m some kind of horrific apparition? Do I look like that to you? I mean a wraith, I would think that’s something more like—” he looked down at himself, then back at Darrigan, who scowled.
