Sanctuary

by Joshua Ingle

  Suddenly, the girl broke from Virgil’s hold and sprinted across the bathroom toward the tub. Thorn chased her. He wrapped Virgil’s arms around her stomach and pulled her backward, but she strained her arm forward, and her outstretched hand dipped into the water ever so slightly.

  The roof of Cole’s concert hall rippled as the girl touched the water. His fingers froze on the piano keys mid-note. From the stage lights beneath the rafters, a lone book sank downward toward Cole, its waterlogged pages fluttering in slow motion. Marcus strained to read the book’s title. Paradise Lost?

  Cole’s own imagination was interacting with Marcus’s illusion. He’d noticed the book. Time to distract him again, with bigger guns.

  Marcus erased the concert hall, and this time he left nothing to replace it. Cole floated alone in an endless underwater void.

  Almost alone.

  “Cole,” said a kindly male voice, speaking from the darkness.

  Cole gazed outward, squinting as if trying to discern the speaker.

  “I love you, Cole. I’m here for you.” Marcus moved the man closer to Cole until Cole saw him, floating calmly, eerily in the navy blue depths.

  “Dad?”

  “I’m here, son. Come to me.” Cole’s father reached an arm out to him. Cole hesitated, making Marcus slightly nervous. But after a moment, he swam straight toward his dearly departed father.

  They were just about to embrace when the human girl’s book floated down between them. Cole abruptly stopped and stared at the sinking book.

  In the tub, Cole’s body convulsed; he started breathing in water. Marcus had to struggle to maintain his illusion while Cole’s lungs grasped for air.

  Cole’s eyes darted around the abyss, toward his father, at his own submerged body. He grew panicky, and he seemed to realize he was drowning.

  All right, forget the father. If the girl is what he wants, let him have her.

  Marcus conjured the illusion of Cole’s bedroom, a room that was just a few yards away in reality. But he lit the illusion in a comforting orange light that clashed strikingly with the blue of the watery void. Crystal was lying back on Cole’s expansive bed, her arms propping her up. She wore a revealing red silk slip, the same deep crimson as her lipstick. It exposed most of her breasts, around which her long flowing hair danced slowly in the water. She looked every bit a fashion model straight out of the pages of a magazine.

  Crystal reached out a hand and beckoned Cole closer. “Hey, baby,” she said. “What do you want? I’ll do anything for you that you want.” This must have been similar to the submissive scenes Cole had heard Crystal acting out over the past several months. Marcus guessed that it was the way he liked her: meek, pliable, safe. And not pregnant.

  Cole seemed entranced by this new version of Crystal. He swam to the bed, where she greeted him warmly, locking him in a kiss. His lungs spasmed again. And then he looked upward.

  No! There’s nothing for you up there. Just the ceiling of your bedroom. This is where you belong! In the confines of routine and codependency and comfort. In a prison of the present built on the foundations of a painful past. This is what you have earned for yourself. This is what you deserve!

  Cole pushed himself forcefully off of the bed, abandoning Marcus’s idealized conception of Crystal, propelling himself up, up, up toward the ceiling, then through it, out of Marcus’s illusions, out of the dark abyss, toward the real Crystal. Toward Thorn.

  Cole broke the surface, bursting from his watery grave and spewing lungfuls of water. Droplets splashed every which way across the room. Thorn, the bastard, was smiling—and not a gloating simper of victory, either, but a genuine smile of happiness for Cole. Thorn let Crystal go and she ran to help her lover.

  Thorn himself sprinted out of the bathroom.

  No.

  Marcus flew after Thorn as fast as he could, darting past the skulking Judge, weaving down the curved hallway through Cole’s bedroom, then out into the living room. The demons outside were all screeching at him, but he could make out no words.

  Marcus stopped short in the living room. Thorn had moved the bodies! Marcus frantically searched for them—any of them. He’d need a physical body in order to slaughter Crystal and Cole. Trails of blood led away from where the bodies had been dragged, toward…

  Marcus flew around the corner and into the elevator. All three bodies lay piled in a heap, but Brandon’s was on top: the easiest to access. Marcus seized control of Brandon and jolted the body upright, ready to take on Thorn and butcher the humans.

  But the body didn’t jolt upright. Thorn had broken most of its major bones in several places. With a quick sideways glance, Marcus saw that the officers’ bodies had received the same treatment.

  No sooner had Marcus realized that these gelatinous bodies would be useless to him than the elevator doors began to close. He tried to release Brandon’s body and lunge for the narrowing gap between the doors, but there wasn’t time. Just before the gap closed completely, he caught a glimpse of the Rat out in the foyer, waving smugly as Marcus was sealed inside.

  DING.

  14

  For once, the Judge had no snarky quips, not even a It was you who betrayed me, which Thorn had expected. No, the Judge’s usual wit had been replaced by an onerous melancholy, and he simply nodded acceptance when Thorn demanded that he leave the condo.

  “They’ll let you live,” Thorn tried to reassure him. “You sided with Marcus rather than me. They’ll let you live.”

  He turned back to the humans, who were still comforting each other on the living room couch. After all that had just transpired, Thorn was hesitant to leave them alone even for a moment, but he’d warned them to not open the main elevator no matter what, and for once they’d understood. Marcus would remain safely locked inside.

  Using Virgil’s damaged body, Thorn opened a door into the service hallways, led the Judge to the service elevator, and pressed the “down” button. “I’ll push the first floor button for you. You’ll be free to roam the ground level until the Sanctuary ends.” Which would happen only an hour from now, according to Virgil’s watch.

  The Judge removed his shades, yet couldn’t seem to make eye contact. “If it’s worth anything, Thorn, I’m sorry things worked out this way. I wish you would’ve seen the light.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Thorn read the Judge’s lack of eye contact as embarrassment that someone he’d considered an equal was capable of becoming a defector.

  The Judge watched the numbers tick past on the elevator readout. “You realize that if you succeed, and the humans make their choices, I could die in here too. No demon who’s failed to kill a Sanctuary’s humans has ever returned to Ear—”

  “That’s a myth.”

  “It’s a fact. Deny it all you want, but it’s a fact.”

  DING. The doors opened.

  “Goodbye, Judge.” Thorn reached inside the elevator. He pressed the button for the ground floor.

  The Judge drifted into the elevator and turned around to face his old friend one last time. “Goodbye, Thorn.”

  They stared at each other until the doors pressed shut.

  •

  “Anything?” Crystal waved her fingers in front of Cole’s eyes.

  “No, nothing.”

  Cole had flipped out about being able to see while underwater in the tub, but he definitely couldn’t see anything now. Crystal sat next to him and rubbed one of his arms vigorously with her uninjured hand. He was still shivering, even though Crystal had helped him change clothes and wrapped a blanket around him.

  Cole still couldn’t explain to her why he’d suddenly tried to drown himself. He barely even remembered doing it. So on top of everything else going on tonight, now Crystal had to worry about Cole being a suicide risk. At least Brandon’s body was out of the room; that was one less danger to be wary of. But still, right now she just wanted to lock herself in a closet and curl up in a ball. She’d had enough of other people’s problems for one night.
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br />   “You know,” Cole said softly, breaking Crystal’s thoughts. “If we make it through this, I’d like to pay your tuition when the next semester starts.”

  “Aw, thanks, Cole.” The gesture would have meant more had it come at any other time; as it was, it felt awkward and forced, like he was trying to bribe her into staying with him after such a horrible night. But no bribe was necessary: in spite of everything, she already planned to stay with him. She loved him. She owed him for all that he’d given her.

  He placed his arm around her. “Just write a really good essay and I’m sure you’ll get in. You’re a smart girl.” He kissed her on the cheek. His lips were cold.

  She sat by him for a moment, thankful to still be alive, wondering when Virgil would come back, trying to decide for what felt like the thousandth time tonight whether she could trust him. Then she noticed the painting of fire hanging up above the sofa across from them. She’d always taken the picture as nothing more than meaningless decoration, but it took on a new significance to her now that she realized Cole had painted it. As she stared into the swirling reds and oranges, she couldn’t help but think of hellfire.

  “Why’s the painting of fire the only one you hung up?” she asked Cole.

  “Brandon hung it up. He never liked the others.”

  “I’m sure your dad would want them all hung up.”

  Cole smiled a little at that, but he still felt so distant, even with his arm around her.

  “Why’s stuff like this have to happen?” Cole asked, more to himself than to Crystal. “The fire, my blindness, Brandon, all the unexplainable stuff tonight.”

  “Apparently it’s all a test.”

  “Ha. Some test.”

  The service door opened. Crystal turned to see Virgil limping back into the living room, looking worse than ever. Dark blood had crusted over wounds all across his body. His clothing was torn in dozens of places, and he walked with a disgusting stiffness.

  Crystal stood defensively… just in case. Virgil seemed to notice her posture.

  “Don’t worry, I’m good now. I won’t try to hurt either of you. I’ll sit over here if it makes you more comfortable.” He plopped down at one of the kitchen table’s chairs, wincing.

  He looked like he was suffering as much physical pain as Crystal was; her stomach ached tremendously. Virgil’s actions had been so erratic all night, especially just now in the bathroom, and although his directions had protected her and Cole, she still got a bad vibe from him. Underneath his desperation, underneath his begging to keep them safe, she sensed someone like Brandon: she sensed a master manipulator who was used to controlling other people with lies. Yeah, that’s it. That’s why I’ve felt so creeped out by him all night. Nevertheless, Crystal knew that she had no choice but to trust Virgil. Unless she counted going back outside as a choice.

  Crystal walked over to the window, almost as if she needed to confirm that the outside world was still there. But before the realness of her world could offer any comfort, a gruesome sight drew her eyes downward.

  Heather—or rather, what was left of Heather—was inching along the ground outside, dragging her intestines behind her. Crystal tried not to throw up at the sight. The broken, mangled body appeared to be heading for the service entrance.

  “Hey, Virgil…”

  He had already noticed her fear and sprung up to see what she was looking at. When he saw Heather, fear struck his face too. “If she can get inside, they’ll use her to open the elevator so they can get to the other bodies. And Marcus… The guns! I forgot to take the police officers’ guns. Is there a way to turn the elevator off?”

  Crystal shrugged and glanced at Cole, who shook his head. “We could just hit the down button on our floor before she hits the up button down there,” she offered.

  “And let Marcus back in here ourselves? No, no.” Virgil ran to the foyer doors, shut them, and locked them, sealing the elevator off from the living room. “Okay. Think about your choices. I’m sorry I interfered tonight, but you need to think about what choice you would have made had I never arrived. That’s our only way out of this.”

  Cole answered him with out-of-the-blue hostility. “Were you gonna let me drown? Back there in the bathroom?”

  Virgil flinched a little at that. “I was proving a point to someone.”

  “You should have let me drown.”

  Everyone in the room grew still at Cole’s statement. He stared blankly ahead, and his face was getting… emotional. That was weird for him.

  “Why me?” Cole continued. “Why are you trying to save me? I’m not… I’m not a good person. I liked what I saw down there in the water. I was just gonna stay.”

  “But you didn’t,” Thorn replied quietly.

  “Save Crystal. She deserves to be saved. Not me.”

  Cole was having a pity party? Now? Crystal exchanged a dubious glance with Virgil, who seemed more concerned for Cole than she did. Cole was so far gone, so different now from the laid-back romantic she’d always thought him to be. This was a life-or-death situation, and Cole was acting like a whiny teenager! Still, Crystal did find it interesting that Cole had self-doubts as serious as her own; he’d never expressed them before tonight.

  Virgil approached Cole, sat next to him, laid a tender hand on his back. “Cole, I’m not doing this because you’re good. I’m doing this because you have the potential to be good. Just like we all do.”

  “But if Crystal and I die tonight, you did this all for nothing.”

  What does Cole mean by that? Could he have bought into Virgil’s ramblings more than I have?

  Virgil glanced up at the painting of the flames and seemed to chew on Cole’s words for a few moments. Then he turned back to him. “I did it for you,” Virgil said, but he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than Cole.

  From beyond the entrance doors, the elevator started whirring. Heather had hit the button on the ground floor.

  “How do you know about this choice we’re supposed to make?” Crystal asked, letting her skepticism toward Virgil seep into her voice. “How do you know all the rules of this place?” Virgil looked up from Cole, giving her his full attention. She added: “It seems kind of convenient that this place has all these arbitrary rules made up just to keep us locked inside here. Inside this ‘Sanctuary.’”

  “Convenient?” Virgil shrugged. “What is the real Earth but an isolated place with arbitrary rules created to keep its inhabitants contained?”

  Fair enough. Let’s try a curveball. “And why does God need to test us, Virgil? If He’s God, shouldn’t He already know what we’ll choose? Whether we’ll be a good person or a bad person? Why go through any of this testing?” She’d sensed something sinister about Virgil all night. Since she had no idea what her “choice” was, maybe some information about this Virgil guy and his crazy ideas would help her find a way out of this mess.

  Virgil took his hand off of Cole’s back and seemed to ponder her question. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Perhaps the test is for your benefit rather than His. To perfect you or some such nonsense.”

  “To perfect us, right. I’ve been verbally abused, raped, beaten, and shot tonight, but the only crap Cole’s had to deal with is being a little depressed. I’ve lived in poverty and he’s lived in luxury. Don’t get me wrong: I love Cole. But if this Sanctuary is supposed to perfect us, shouldn’t we be tested equally?”

  “Perhaps He thinks these experiences will bring you closer to Him somehow.”

  “Well if He does, He’s dead wrong about that.”

  “I agree.”

  “And if He’s God, and He can do anything, why didn’t He just create us the way He wanted us? If He knew He’d have to put us through all this suffering to make us perfect, why didn’t He just make us perfect in the first place?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Crystal stared Virgil down, and he stared right back with honest eyes—or at least eyes that carried the illusion of honesty. She’d onl
y interacted with Virgil a few times before tonight, and he’d always seemed so normal. What had happened to him?

  The room was quiet. Crystal realized that sometime during their argument, the elevator had stopped whirring. How long has it been at the ground floor?

  Virgil peered out through the sliding glass doors, watching the windy air on the balcony. “Perhaps your choice was to forgive Brandon for something horrible that he did,” he said. “Begin the healing process.”

  “Fat chance of that.”

  “Or, well, the most obvious choice is for you and Cole to finally commit to each other and start a new life together. You still love each other, don’t you?”

  Crystal gazed at her boyfriend, who was staring up at his old painting, at the fire he couldn’t see. Of course she loved him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She couldn’t deny that tonight had shaken her trust in him, but tomorrow would be a new day, and they could rebuild anything in their relationship that they’d lost. They should rebuild.

  Right?

  Cole spoke first: “I love Crystal. Absolutely. And I need you, love. Come here.”

  She wanted to go to him, and she even took a step before hesitating. She had to admit to herself that something had changed in her feelings for Cole. She gazed at his welcoming face, waiting there on the couch for the comfort she’d bring him. He didn’t really need her, any more than she needed him. She wanted him, yes, but maybe what they both really needed was—

  Crystal heard the chink of breaking glass. It sounded as harmless as a nicked champagne glass cracking, but when she looked toward the source of the noise, she saw a tiny hole in one of the windows. A bullet hole?

  Virgil spoke urgently. “Yes. You love each other. That must be it. The Enemy is testing your loyalty. Simply recommit to your relationship, and we’ll all be safe. It’s at least worth a shot, as long as you really mean it.”