by Micah Castle
“Yeah bu—”
“But nothing, Bobby.” Spencer said, waving his hand in front of his nose. “I don’t believe Nathan is immortal, that’s just fucking crazy; no one can live forever. He’s just some old, poor guy down on his luck. You’re making it seem he’s the problem, but from the looks of it, you’re the one with the problem.”
Before Robert could continue further, Spencer said sternly, “Now let me order my food.”
When Robert returned home, he went into his bedroom and laid down. Idly he stared up at the tiled ceiling.
What does Spencer know? he thought. What kind of friend says something like that when clearly, I’m fucking serious about this. Who the hell is he to say I’m the one with the problem?
But… he is right, sort of. Anyone can write anything in a notebook, and Nathan didn’t even bring it up. Why do I feel like I need to do something? It’s not like I was meant to read it, not like Nathan shoved his journal in my face and forced me to read it. I got him drunk and snuck into his private things on my own. I’m really the one at fault. But then why do I want to know if it’s true or not? Why do I feel like Nathan’s the wrong one here? Why do I believe his story is true instead of the dozen other novels I’ve read? Why can’t I shake the image of him in the room full of mirrors?
And if I really wanted to, what could I do to prove what Nathan wrote down is true? If I could just find out it’s fake, it’d give all this nonsense up. But I’m sure Nathan would never forgive me and move out, probably spread rumors throughout town that I’m a freak. I’d understand but I must know, I just must fucking know.
He laid in silence for about an hour, mulling over ideas of how he could prove the story true. The idea of getting him drunk again came to him a few times, but he knew Nathan wouldn’t go for that once more. Then, as his eyes closed, and his mind slowly drifted towards unconsciousness, it came to him.
The mirror in his briefcase.
VI
It took two weeks to finalize a plan. Robert waited until it was a Friday night, so he didn’t have to deal with school the following morning. As he sat in the living room, tapping his foot on the carpet, he pretended to watch television. He heard Nathan come out of his room, closing the door.
“Going out, have a good night.” He said as he left the apartment.
“You too.” Robert whispered.
He shut off the television, went into his room and changed into sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, then after a few minutes, left the apartment. Robert took the flights of stairs two at the time and came out in between his complex and another. Quickly he moved out onto the sidewalk. Underneath the soft orange glow of the street light, he saw Nathan cross the street.
Robert had begun sweating the moment he got up from the chair, but now underneath the heavy clothes, perspiration covered his entire body. He half-jogged, half-walked down the street, crossed to the other side, and from a distance, followed Nathan for a mile, into downtown.
Nathan walked another couple of blocks, then went into a bar, while Robert found a bench underneath one of the trees lining the street and sat underneath the most shadowed section.
Jesus, what is this guy doing? he thought, some hours later. His legs began to cramp, and a headache throbbed in his temples. His wristwatch read 2 A.M.
It wasn’t until 4 A.M. that Nathan came out of the bar. He didn’t look drunk or even that he had been drinking. Maybe he just played pool the entire time? He moved down the street and turned into an alley.
Robert practiced everything in his head a dozen times before tonight, but even as he sat up, heard his knees crack and felt his backside throb with a dull pain, he told himself it was time.
While he jogged across the street, he pulled the hood over his head and stretched it as far as the material would allow over his face. He took cleaning gloves out of his pockets and slid them on.
It felt like water poured from his armpits, and the stench that blew up from his collar made him wish he would’ve taken a bath in deodorant rather than just a few dabs.
The shadows fell over him as he entered the alleyway, his steps slowing as he saw Nathan nearing the end of it. The dull light of the street lamps fell onto the pavement, but it didn’t reach Nathan. Robert heard his footsteps and saw the glint of locks on his briefcase shimmer briefly with his movements.
Then Robert sprinted. He heard Nathan’s shoes drag as he turned around.
“Who the—” His words cut off immediately as Robert rammed his shoulder into his chest, throwing him to the ground. He heard the briefcase hit the pavement and skid on the gravel.
Robert gritted his teeth and held back the bile coming up his throat. He leapt over Nathan’s splayed out body, groped the ground until he found the briefcase, pulled it into himself and sprinted out of the alley.
“Hey! Stop!” He heard Nathan shout, his voice reverberating off the walls.
Robert ran up the street, crossed and continued forward. He zigzagged between roads and alleys and corners. He ran and ran and ran until his legs cried for relief and his headache pounded against the back of his eyes. He turned a last corner, leaned against a cement wall of a parking garage, and took in large gasps of chilly night air.
The bile he held back an hour ago returned and Robert vomited, strands of glistening saliva stuck to his lips before he wiped them away.
Oh God, he thought. I hope I didn’t hurt him too much. Oh God…
He looked down the street, saw no one. Good, good. Robert knelt, unlocked the briefcase, took the mirror out and slid it into his sweatshirt. Then he closed it and held it and walked the long way back to his apartment. The sky burned a pastel pink and yellow, and the early dawn chill crept through the air. He dropped the briefcase off at the mailbox near the complex, where he knew Nathan, or someone, would find it.
He jogged up the stairs and went inside to see the apartment the same way he left it. Nathan’s door was still closed. Did he come home? Is he still out in town? Did he leave, knowing that someone stole his mirror? Or did he die? Did he need the mirror to continue living?
Robert went into his room, got a change of clothes, then went into the bathroom. He showered, changed, then sat in the living room. He gripped the mirror in his hand, holding the reflective side against the bottom of the chair.
When he heard the door open, he almost puked again.
There’s no point in beating around the bush, Robert thought. As Nathan was locking the door, he stood up and faced him, hiding the mirror behind his back.
When Nathan turned around he jerked back as if shocked. “What are you doing? You scared me!”
“How old do you think you are?”
“What?”
“I asked how old you were.”
“How old I believe I am? What the hell does that mean? I’m thirty, thirty-years-old. I’ve told you this before. Why are you acting weird?” Nathan said as he went into the kitchen and got some water.
“But really how old are you? A hundred? A hundred-fifty?”
After taking a drink, he looked at Robert through the open space between the counter and cabinets. “What the hell are you talking about? Do I look that old?”
“Where did you live before this?”
He finished his drink and put the cup in the sink. “Look Robert, I’m not in the mood for this. I got robbed last night, which I’m going to have to deal with later today, and I’m pretty tired.” He moved to his bedroom door, but Robert stood in front of him, blocking his way. “Move, c’mon move. I just want to go to sleep.”
“Just tell me how old you are, or how you old you believe you are. Just tell me where you came from.” Robert insisted, his face a foot away from Nathan’s. He wanted Nathan to admit everything. He wanted Nathan to freely give the information up before he had to take an extreme step. He wanted it without a struggle.
“Get out of my way!” Nathan shouted as he grabbed Robert and shoved him away from the door.
Nathan stopped midway between the door and his room. He took a step back and turned to Robert, wide-eyed, his hands trembling.
“Wh— What did you say?”
“You heard what I said.”
“You’ve read…” Nathan murmured.
“Yes, I did.” Robert said, as he took the mirror out from behind his back. He kept the reflective side towards himself. He didn’t believe Nathan’s eyes could grow wider, but they did. His mouth formed an O and his legs seemed to turn to jelly. He collapsed into a chair in the living room.
“It was you,” he murmured. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I have to know if it’s true or not.”
His face snapped towards Robert. “Don’t, please don’t. I’ll tell you everything, I’ll read every secret ever written in my diary, just calm down and sit.”
If what was written in the diary wasn’t true, why would Nathan act like this? Why would someone beg for mercy if it was a lie? Maybe he’s a good actor? Maybe there’s more to the story than I know? Maybe—
Nathan leapt from the chair and tackled Robert’s legs, throwing him to the ground. The mirror flew from his hand and fell onto the carpet. Nathan pinned Robert to the floor, his knees pinching his arms against the floor. His face twitched and jerked and spasmed, waves of insanity flashed over his flesh.
“How dare you? How dare you steal for me and threaten me with my tools? You are a fool.”
Robert struggled to pull his arms free, but the pressure sent sharp pains up his arms and shoulders. “Let me go!”
“I cannot, now. You know too much. Only a few people have learned my secret and none of them were able to keep it. I made sure they didn’t.” He said as he pulled a rusted knife out from his back pocket.
“A secret cannot be told if you have passed.”
Robert’s fingers dug at the carpet, slowly inching his hand towards the mirror that laid only a couple inches away. He couldn’t move close enough, no matter how much he tried. Sweat stood out on his forehead and forearms, and his muscles burned fiercely.
He felt Nathan’s knife enter his stomach, a searing pain exploding throughout his body. He screamed and began to cry, vomit almost surged out of his gaping mouth.
“It only gets worse from here.” Nathan said, grinning.
Robert closed his eyes to block out the pain. He threw his legs up and kneed Nathan in the back, sending even more pain exploding through him. Nathan toppled over him, falling over Robert’s head and onto the floor. Quickly Robert rolled over, winced as his wound brushed the ground, and snatched the mirror up.
Robert spun and shoved the reflective side of the mirror towards Nathan. When he looked up, seeing his own reflection through his hay-colored hair, there was a moment of stillness, of silence, then his eyes sank deep into his head and his mouth yawned open, forming a gaping maw that melted and stretched to the floor. His hair shriveled like a burning wick and became gray ash, tumbling from his hairless skull to the carpet in piles. His tongue deflated and dried, blood steamed out of his toothless mouth. Nathan’s gnarled arm shot out but evaporated into dust before it reached Robert.
Gurgling moans and screams echoed out from the depths of Nathan’s decaying body, only to cease when his throat collapsed, blocking his esophagus. The sinewy flesh on his head pulled apart, ripping like paper and drifted in the air. His skull trembled and shook, then cracks spider webbed shot up through it and one by one, each piece of Nathan disintegrated.
The heap on the floor was no longer a man, no longer anything but a suit filled with ash and dust.
Epilogue
A week later, after a two day stay at the hospital, Robert went back and got the briefcase and brought it to his apartment, surprised it was still there. He put the mirror and the folded suit inside it, then locked it. Before he downed another glass of rum, he vomited. As he left the bathroom, he saw himself in the mirror; his red-rimmed eyes, his sunken cheeks, the stubble covering his oily face. He hadn’t slept since he killed Nathan. He took a temporary, if not permanent, leave from school.
Evening had begun settling in. The violet sky emitted a soft light that entered through the open window. The faint light partially illuminated the dark apartment, reflecting weakly off the empty beer cans, the drained glass alcohol bottles, and the foil bags of potato chips littering the coffee table, the floor, the chair.
Robert left his home, not bothering to close the door, and went to the dumpster behind the complex.
He set the briefcase down onto the cracked cement, winced a sharp pain shot up his side, and took a flask of lighter fluid from his back pocket. He doused the case and pulled out a box of matches. With a few flicks, the match was ignited, and he tossed it onto Nathan’s belongings.
Under the dying light of the sky, his body casting long shadows across the pavement, Robert watched the remnants of Nathan alight, sizzle and burn.
Extras
The Space Passed the Stars
Tommy parked his cherry-red muscle car near the edge of the Overlook. Its top was down, and the cool night air wafted into the vehicle, blowing over him and Jessica. Her blonde hair was in a bun, her blue eyes glanced over the sparkling small town in the distance, and she adjusted her striped skirt from creeping up her thigh.
Tommy killed the car, ran his fingers through his hazel hair and looked at Jessica. The anticipation leading up this point nearly killed him, and now it seemed it just might. He could feel the sweat under his arms and taste the saltiness on his lips. His hands and feet were tingly and numb. This was his first time telling someone else his secret.
“Jessica?” he asked, her name almost coming out in a stutter.
“Yes?” she replied, her voice shaky.
“Can I talk to you about something important?”
“Yeah, sure Tommy. You can talk to me about anything.” She said as she inched over towards his side of the car.
“You remember Mrs. Schutz's class?”
“Yeah, science class. I remember, what about it?”
“Well, remember that one lesson we had a couple days ago? About space? How Mrs. Schutz said that space was forever, it was — what was the word she used? — infinite? Yeah, infinite. That it goes on and on, and there is no end.”
Jessica nodded.
Tommy gripped the thin steering wheel with one hand, tightening his palm around it, and with his other, ran it through his hair again. “Do you think that… that there are other things living out there?”
“Wha—”
“I mean that if space is forever, really forever, that there must be things out there, you know? Not humans, or dogs, or cats, but other species, right? And if they do exist, what would they be like? Monsters? Aliens? Or maybe something like the creatures in Twilight Zone? And, what’s been bothering me the most, if we were to see them, would we welcome them? Would you be able to accept one without being terrified, Jessica?”
Jessica slid her hand back onto her lap, and quietly moved back over to the passenger's side. Her anxiety began to simmer in a pot of anger, then it started to boil. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? You brought me up here to talk about aliens, Tommy?”
“Yeah… I did. It's been nagging me since Mrs. Schutz talked about it. I thought if we came out to the Overlook, and you could see how beautiful space and the stars were, that maybe it would help you understand why it’s important to me.”
The water was now full on boiling, foaming over the rim, crashing and burning on the flames below. Jessica tightened her palms together, her freshly painted nails dug into her skin. She put her head down, closing her eyes. “Tommy, just take me home.”
“Wha— why?” he said, turning towards her.
“Just take me home, now.”
“What happened? What I do?”
“I thought you brou
ght me up here to ask me to go to prom with you, not to talk about aliens or spaces or stars. I don’t care about any of that. Tommy, guys don’t bring girls up here to talk, they bring them up here to make out or, I don’t know, be romantic.”
Taken aback, he didn't know what to do or what to say. He never mentioned prom to her once, and he didn’t give the impression that he intended on being romantic and making out never crossed his mind. Those things didn’t matter to him, what mattered was the subject of the conversation; which she clearly showed no interest in. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea that there was life out in space — closer than she might believe. Jessica didn’t even answer his question.
Sighing, frustrated, he quietly turned towards the wheel, and asked, “Are you sure you want to go home?”
“Yes, Tommy, yes. Just take me home now.”
“Okay… I'm sorry Jessica.”
“It's fine, let's just go.”
With his free hand he put the key in the ignition and started the car, then pressed a metallic button embedded in the dashboard, to the left of the wheel. The revving of the car roared into life, its sound amplifying to the sound of a jet engine. The white roof slid out from the back of the vehicle and went into place over them, while the windows rolled up automatically. Emerald flames ejected out from the sides of the hood, while yellow and red fire erupted from the exhaust. Waves of star-speckled, kaleidoscopic colors spewed out from both sides of the car, as the wheels compressed inwards onto themselves, becoming balls of blackness.
The car hovered over the ground. Jessica had started screaming when green flames shot out from the hood and hadn't stopped the entire time. “What is going on Tommy!”
He looked at the steering wheel and muttered, “We do exist, even if you care or not.”
“What the hell is happening Tommy?” she wailed.
