by TJ Vargo
"He made it come alive," he rasped, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair. He heard her inhale sharply, then her voice.
"Jackson, that's a real woman up there. Look, she's under that mud."
It was true. Clots of dirt and shingles of mud fell to the floor at the feet of the earthen figure. Nathaniel helped the process, scraping the mud from her. His hands were soon joined by the hands of townspeople crowding in. In a matter of moments, the thing of dirt was a real woman. Filthy, with her skin smeared black and brown by the mud, but a naked woman all the same. Jackson looked at her dumbstruck, saw her turn to Nathaniel and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as the woman that had come from mud let out a cry. It was the sound of an animal that had just realized it was caught in a steel jawed trap. Jackson could only look at her, his skin crawling as her cry died out, marveling at her beauty.
Instinctively, he took a step forward before he could control himself. He looked at the press of townspeople, or whatever they were, around her. One thing he did not want was for any of them to turn their attention on him. All of them had once been townspeople, but they were something else now. Even their clothes had taken a turn for the worse. Suits and dresses had become little more than rags that covered sore-infested bodies. They showed the same rapid deterioration that the church had undergone, except it had happened to their flesh. Now they were imps and hags cavorting around the woman that had been raised from dirt. He wiped his palms disgustedly on the front of his shirt, wanting to forget that he'd ever been touched by any of them, especially Frida Commons. She had actually been better looking before, he marveled. The rotund flesh was gone, replaced by a hollow-eyed skeleton that jerked about with the clumsiness of a puppet. The only one who hadn't changed was Nathaniel. The look of an old preacher was on him as he towered over the throng in his black outfit, grinning and holding the naked, mud-smeared woman by her arm, protecting her from the ravening crowd.
"Jackson, we can get out of here now. None of them care about us. Let's go."
Half turning, not wanting to take his eyes off the woman - or the circle of monsters surrounding her - Jackson said, "I've got to see her. She's my sister," and walked toward the altar, leaving Felicia at the back of the church. Fear tugged at his guts harder and harder with each step. The toes of his shoes bumped up against the first step leading up onto the altar and he stopped. Nathaniel looked down at him over the heads of the crowd around him and the strange woman.
"Join me," he said, reaching out his free hand. Letting go of the woman's arm, Nathaniel swept his other hand over the church and the townspeople. "Join me and anything will be yours."
The church at once transformed back to its previous state. Jackson turned slowly in a circle, unable to keep himself from looking around in awe. Damn if the church hadn't become new again. The wood fairly glowed, the brasswork shined and the stained glass sparkled. Even the air crackled with an energy all around him. His feet shuffled in a complete circle until he was looking up at the altar again, and up a few steps above him he saw another kind of transformation take place. The townspeople were changing back, eyes shiny with health, their cheeks robust, their clothes new, each and every one of them projecting the vigor of the well-heeled inhabitants of a prosperous small town. And there above it all, Nathaniel lorded. Jackson couldn't see Nathaniel's eyes. They were hidden in the shadow of the brim of his hat. But Jackson knew that those eyes were smiling slits of black ice. He could feel them crawling over him from the inside of the shadow of that wide-brimmed hat, taking him in and devouring him.
"You can be what you want, live how you want, eat what you want, fuck what you want. Everything you see and feel will be exactly the way you want it to be." Nathaniel stretched out his hand toward Jackson, the fingers splayed. "You only need to join the town and pursue those things that bring pleasure to you...," Nathaniel's fingers closed into a fist, his voice lowering to a whisper, "and the things that bring pleasure to me."
A warm sensation wrapped over Jackson. He quickly looked down at his feet, expecting to see small waves lapping at his toes, inviting him to jump into the ocean of peace touching at his mind. He smiled. There was no ocean. No water. Only Nathaniel's shadow stretching down toward him. He slid a foot forward, trying to touch Nathaniel's shadow. It pulled away before he could slip his shoe into it. He raised his eyes to where Nathaniel looked down on him. To do this, to become part of Nathaniel's town, it didn't sound half bad. He looked at the townspeople, all staring at him from above. They were the picture of contentment. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? His legs were heavy as stone, but he stepped up toward Nathaniel. The smile on his face was all but plastered on. I'm ready to dive in Nathaniel. I've finally seen how blind a man could be. I'll trade myself for the pleasure behind curtain two.
At the top, he began to slip through the people. All smiles. Hands reaching over to give him quick reassuring squeezes on the shoulder and arm. This was great. He pushed through the last line of people in front of Nathaniel and looked full upon him. He reached for Nathaniel's hand and nearly toppled when a screech drove through his brain like an railroad spike.
It dropped all the townspeople to their knees. Even Nathaniel, great Nathaniel, seemed human for a moment, his face contorting in pain as he staggered back. It was the woman. Jackson turned toward her, seeing the white teeth inside her mouth as she screamed an unearthly sound. An all-over sound that ripped the lie out of Jackson's mind and slapped him back to reality. It was a sound of panic, and Jackson knew why. He had been close to giving in to Nathaniel and she had seen it. Seen it and stopped it with that unearthly noise that spiked through the air.
The woman's screech died out. She slumped, but stayed on her feet, a pained, exhausted look on her face. Jackson looked at Nathaniel, seeing him drop to one knee and shake his head as if trying to clear it. The townspeople were barely moving, laying prone on the floor on top of one another. Jackson kneeled, picking up the knife that had fallen from his sister's chest. He slipped it inside his pants, feeling the cold metal blade against his hip. Then he turned his attention back to the woman. He saw her with clear eyes for the first time.
Nathaniel had said he was going to bring back his daughter with Jackson's blood and now, stepping forward and placing his hands on her face, Jackson's gut said that Nathaniel had told the truth. This was Nathaniel's daughter - his sister. Somehow, he'd done it. Jackson bit his lip, stopping his thoughts of how an animated thing of mud could now be flesh beneath his fingers. His mind would break if it ran that tape too many times. Rather, he just looked at her. Marveled at her. How could something as beautiful as this be his sister?.
He decided she looked like Nathaniel in the same ways that he did. She was a big, graceful-limbed girl. He touched her hair, then knocked away the mud to reveal her thick black hair. He recognized her eyes as his own. The same black eyes Nathaniel had passed to him. He shook his head. "You're my sister, aren't you?" he asked, not even caring when her only response was a slow pained blink, her face slick with perspiration.
Carefully, tenderly, he wiped her face, the mud scaling off her cheeks. Revealing her face, he could see the similarity in her looks to Felicia. He stopped for a moment. It was astounding. He gently ran a thumb over her cheekbone, remembering there were also a number of girls in coffins in the woods that shared her looks. His face tightened and he pulled his hand away. The first inkling of why Felicia and the other girls looked like this woman - his sister - began to form. Nathaniel had been searching for her, taking any girl that he thought could be her. And what was that Nathaniel had said? That he'd bring his son through his daughter? Jackson felt ill at the thought.
He reached for his sister's hand. Dry mud and dirt crumbled in his grip. He wanted nothing more but to hold her and keep her safe.
Someone grabbed him firmly by the back of the neck. He began to turn with bad intent, his mind on auto-pilot, only wanting to strike out. At the same time his naked, mud-caked sister grasped both o
f his hands and squeezed. His back arched, his consciousness on fire. A burst of blinding light, then her face floating before him in his mind, showing up just as the little girl of his dreams had when he was a child. Only this time she spoke to him instead of watching quietly from a distance.
"You're not alone anymore. I'm with you. We will beat him together."
Nathaniel's hands spun Jackson around, the high color of anger flushing his face. His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes glittering.
"You made your choice. Now there's nothing that can save you. Not even that man that died on the cross. Nothing."
Nathaniel leveled a dark stare on Jackson, then snorted in disgust and shoved Jackson back into a group of men gathered behind him.
Two of the men held Jackson. He was in a daze. Barely able to move while the men wrenched his arms behind his back, his mind spinning as they turned him away from his sister. He couldn't help looking at her.
"He looks like he's in love," said one of the men.
He looked away from his sister to look at the man. Examined him up and down, then looked over the rest of them. They were back to looking like the pride of Clear Creek. Men of small town business and hearty vigor. And, looking around, he saw the church was shining and strong again. He grimaced as the men tightened their grip on his arms and pushed his wrists up to the middle of his back. Why Nathaniel had ever let him see the truth of the decaying people and church he wasn't sure. He wondered, looking at the jowly face of a man holding his arm, if the man had ever seen what he really looked like. The man grinned at him with big, coffee-stained teeth. Jackson was pretty sure he hadn't. He was spun around to face Nathaniel, one man on each arm to hold him still. He watched helpless as Nathaniel first looked at him and then his sister. Taking a step toward her, Nathaniel slapped his sister to the ground, then pulled her up by her hair. He did it again. And again. She didn't make a sound. How she kept quiet Jackson couldn't fathom, but she did. When Nathaniel had finished, a shine of sweat on his forehead, he leaned his head back and whooped. "Ahhh, it feels so good to be bad."
Jackson was pushed forward as Nathaniel led the way down the main aisle out of the church, dragging Jackson's beaten sister by her long hair. At the altar stairs she stumbled and fell. Jackson tried to break away from the men that held him to help her, but was shoved to his knees. He watched his sister roll down the stairs while the townspeople laughed. Slowly, gingerly, Nathaniel walked down the steps after her. He waited for a moment, allowing her to get to her feet. She looked back at Jackson and he could see a line of blood running down her face from her scalp. Oddly, she smiled and stood up, stumbling forward with a nice yank on her hair from Nathaniel.
Following behind, being prodded along by the giggling men behind him, Jackson shook with anger. It was hard to even see through the red haze of rage caused by Nathaniel's cruelty.
Something at the end of the aisle caught his attention. It was Felicia. In the soft candlelight she waited patiently while Nathaniel came toward her. Frightened for her, Jackson prepared himself to see Nathaniel strike her down. This would be it. Jackson prepared himself to break free from the grip of the men holding him. Even at the cost of being beaten himself, he'd seen enough. He wasn't going to watch Felicia get beaten. Relaxing the tightness in his arms and feeling the men loosen their grip in turn, he prepared himself, thinking of the knife blade resting cold against his thigh. He thought there was a chance he could get it out before they could react and even if there wasn't it didn't bother him. To strike back was all that mattered.
He readied himself, stepping forward a little faster than the men holding him, getting a little more room. He tensed, almost into the act of pulling free and reaching for his knife and then stopped. He was going to be sick.
Felicia kneeled down in front of Nathaniel, bowing her head. Nathaniel laid his hand on the top of her head in a gesture of absolution and reached down to lift her to her feet. A few words passed from Nathaniel to Felicia and she nodded, going back to Jackson's sister, tearing off a piece of her dress and using it to wipe the blood from her face. Jackson struggled to catch his breath. He watched Felicia help his sister stay on her feet as Nathaniel pulled her by her hair out of the church. Vicious pulls that bent his sister at the waist. His head felt light and he swooned, all his strength slipping away like vapor. Felicia had betrayed him.
Feeling a push from behind, he stumbled forward and looked to the ground. He kept his eyes on the ground, falling occasionally, but always getting back to his feet without help. He was alone, and as painful as it was he would keep his dignity. As they passed through the town of Clear Creek and walked back up the winding road to the castle he decided not to look at Felicia. The ache in his chest swelled. He'd never look at her again. She was a betrayer. He had to keep blinking to keep his eyes clear of the tears welling there. He knew it was his own fault too. His heart had betrayed him as much as she had. Being the good guy, trying to protect the weak; what had he been thinking?
As they traveled up the road toward the castle he broke from the men holding him long enough to reach into his pocket and grab the belt buckle he carried. Before the men had the chance to pin his arms he threw it far into the blackness of the surrounding forest. One of the men slapped him, screaming, "What was that you threw?" From far ahead, Jackson heard Nathaniel's voice, light with humor.
"It was nothing. Forget about it. I'm sure he already has."
A shove in the back got Jackson moving forward again and he looked ahead to see Felicia picking his sister up from the ground where she'd fallen. You're right Nathaniel. It was nothing. People beat other people. They treat each other like animals. Everyone is out for themselves. And if you ever buck that and try to turn it around, thinking there's hope, they remind you of how wrong you are. It's every man for himself, forever and ever. Amen.
Chapter Nineteen
He made his way around the room, dragging the tips of his fingers over damp, crumbling stone walls. The darkness was impenetrable. He closed his eyes as hard as he could, then opened them quickly, hoping to make out any form, any shape. He sighed. Nothing.
Sliding to the floor, he thought over his plight. This was the bowels of the castle. No light would make it down here tonight. Maybe in the morning the sun would filter light in from somewhere, but he could forget it for tonight. He thought back to the brief glimpse of the room he saw when they tossed him in here. A bare dirt floor. Huge grayish fieldstone walls. Some straw on the floor. Other than that, he couldn't remember seeing anything else, especially not anything that would help him figure out a way to escape. Best to just forget about it for now.
Reaching blindly, he scraped together a pile of straw from the floor to make a bed. He pushed the straw into a pile, listening to things scampering around, upset by all the noise he was making. He patted his newly made straw bed and sat down on it, one hand feeling blindly around on the dirt floor. There it was. His fingers tightened around the knife he'd taken from the church and he sat cross legged, holding it in front of him. First rat to touch him was going to be a dead rat. As he laid back, he stared up into the black, his mind wandering.
"At least I have clothes," he said to himself, wondering if his sister was still naked. Not something anyone would ever want to do - sleep naked with a bunch of rats scurrying around in the dark. He readjusted himself, squirming on the straw. Laying there. Looking up into the dark. Damn, it was too quiet. "It stinks in here!" he yelled, then listened to his echo. Wrinkling his nose, he said quietly, "Shit, I stink in here." Slammed his fist down in the dirt, listening to something scamper further away into the dark, then turned on his side and closed his eyes, a wrinkle in his brow. How could Felicia have done that? Bowing down before Nathaniel. And how could I have been so stupid? He adjusted his head on the straw, trying to find a comfortable position. It itched his neck and he scratched himself. Never trust anyone. People only look out for themselves. They'll hurt you if you give them the chance.
Even with these thoughts in h
is head, he couldn't help himself. He drifted off thinking about his sister, wishing he was with her to protect her from the rats. Wishing he could keep her company in the dark. Wishing, just wishing he knew what was going to happen next.
The field in front of him was green and went on forever. Daisies bowed and rocked in a gentle breeze. Clouds that were gauzy white sailed in a cornflower blue sky. He walked through the field. His feet never touched the ground. Each step kicked up a crop of dandelion floaters, puffy white miniature parachutes that swirled in the air and bopped around on gentle breezes like little happy thoughts. Kicking a whole cloud up into the air, Jackson put his hands on his hips and looked out over the field. Has to be a dream. He turned slowly, having the feeling he was in the middle of a heaven he conjured in his head. Couldn't smell a thing, but there was a sense of eternal summer and fresh cut grass here. It was nice to look at the flowers and watch the sunny blue sky stretch out forever. Can't get enough of a sunny blue sky. Especially one like this. You could stare straight up into the sun without having to squint.
He felt a tiny spot of pressure against the back of his arm. He jumped, turning around.
"Hi."
It was his sister, naked as she'd been at the altar, pulling her hand back from poking him, the index finger still pointing in his direction. He beamed, but couldn't talk. Light glowed from her body, making it impossible to see all of her nakedness. He stood and smiled, wondering why words wouldn't come out of his mouth.
