by Casey Lane
David looked calm, more composed than I would have been in his position. I could see his lips moving as he spoke to the man, trying his best to settle him down. The man appeared confused and angry. He spat out words that I couldn’t understand.
He pushed his back up against the wall when he spotted me. His grip tightened on the handle of the sharp instrument that now ebbed its way into David’s throat. I could see a small trickle of blood rushing down his adam's apple, but still, he remained calm, with his hands up in front of him. David was incredible in times of turmoil. It was one of the things that I admired about him and ironically, it also bored me to death.
“Stop…stop…please stop. Get out of my head!” The man cried out, pleading with invisible forces as he stared up at the ceiling and then around the emergency room. His head jerked from side to side like a frightened animal that was being hunted. I held my hands up in submission and started to walk toward the two of them. He spotted me and tilted his head. His eyes looked tired, deep trenches lay beneath them, shadowed in gray.
“I only want to help you,” I said calmly, never lowering my hands.
His maniacal laughter sent a chill through my bones. Long trails of saliva connected his cracked bottom lip to his top one. His flesh seemed to be flaking off. He was more than sick; he was rotting away. My first thought was a biological agent, and it terrified me.
“Help me? Help me? You? How could you possibly help me?!” He screamed in defiance.
I stopped dead as he pulled back and David let out a small moan. The scalpel sliced into his flesh, deeper, releasing more blood. I knew I was running out of time, and so was David.
I spoke with conviction. “I understand how you feel.”
He shook his head. “What could you offer me, dead girl?”
My heartbeat sped up. How could he possibly know my condition? I paused too long, and David narrowed his eyes.
“Halo? What does he mean?” David asked as my face felt flush.
My bottom lip quivered, and I could feel the muscles in my body threatening to betray me.
“I understand how you feel. I understand feeling lost and desperate. I do. I don’t know what you have, but whatever it is let me help you. I just want to help you. That’s all. Please let him go. David has nothing to do with this. It’s just you and me.”
The chuckling was small at first, and then it rolled out of him. He slowly inched his way toward the door, and I knew if he reached it then our chances of saving him, or David, dropped to zero. Security had a duty to protect, and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if need be.
“You can’t help me, dead girl.”
“I’m not dead yet, and neither are you,” I spoke through gritted teeth.
He kept pushing along the wall, and I spotted a trail of blood behind him. He was bleeding out.
He suddenly stopped and looked me over. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Come to collect my bones, have you?! Well, fuck you, hound!”
I paused and held my palms up in surrender. “I don’t know what you mean; I’m just a nurse. My name is Halo, Halo Bay. I work here at Mercy General, I have for the last two years and that’s David, David Weller, he’s also a nurse here at Mercy.” I pointed at David, hoping I could humanize him in the eyes of this psychopath.
He swung the scalpel in my direction but hurriedly jammed it back against David’s throat.
“No! You have…you have it; you have the mark…there…right there on your wrist!”
I stared at the fading scar on my wrist.
“That was a mistake that I made a long time ago. It’s true, I did try to kill myself, but luckily I didn’t succeed.”
The man let out a hearty laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it, love? You tried to kill yourself only to be taken out by that festering tumor in your head? This is hell, all of it, every bit. We are meat sacks and nothing more. There is no heaven, only darkness ahead. You forfeited your life when you disregarded it as did I.”
He held his wrist up, and I could see the stitches tearing apart on the long cut up his arm.
I sucked in my breath as he tapped his right temple with the edge of the scalpel and left a small trickle of blood behind. He quickly jammed it back against David’s jugular.
David looked at me in horror. “Halo, is this true?”
I parted my lips but was interrupted as two security guards rushed in and aimed their guns at the man.
One of the guards yelled at him in desperation. “Put the knife down!” I could see his hand trembling.
I turned and spoke to him as my resolve strengthened. “Stop. Put your guns down. I can handle this; we don’t need any violence. You’ll only make this situation worse.”
The young man grinned, and I swear his eyes shifted from brown to black in a matter of seconds. Everything froze in place except for the two of us, and he spoke in a whisper. “Viderunt te.”
“What?” I asked him in confusion.
He leaned forward as David struggled. The man gripped the handle of the scalpel with such ferocity. I scanned the room, and everyone was still frozen in place. I stepped back, and his eyes darted to the doors.
“Look. This will be because of you.” He hissed at me.
I stared in horror as the sky shifted from black to rolling fire. I approached the doors and peered out as everything started to disintegrate and float up into the fire. Houses, cars, people. It horrified me.
“This can’t be real.” My eyes glossed over in horror.
Surely I was having a vision brought on by the tumor in my brain and the extra stress caused by the situation at hand. I turned to face the man, and he was grinning at me with black stained teeth. The stench rolling off of him smelled of sulfur. I had to cover my nose with the back of my hand.
“Because of me?” I asked. He wagged the scalpel at the door, and I held my hands up to him. “Listen, I’m sick, and so are you. We can’t trust what we see, but I want to help you. Please let me.”
He paused, and his expression shifted to one of sadness. “You can’t help me. No one can. I forfeited my soul, and now the collection is at hand. I just want to take someone with me; I need a sacrifice.” He choked out through his sobbing.
He paused then became calm with the odd tilt of his head. “Videre in inferno, canis.”
“What?” I asked.
Suddenly time returned to normal.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered, and without hesitation, he sliced through David’s throat like butter. David stared at me for a moment and then dropped to his knees in front of him. The man laughed and held his hands up and out to his sides as the gunshots rang out.
Three bullets hit their mark. One to his chest, one to his leg, and the last one ripped into his forehead, spraying blood across the white wall behind him. He stumbled back with a terrible expression on his face before he hit the floor with a thud.
I rushed to David’s side and fell to my knees, ignoring the pain that came along with it. I placed my hand over his neck, and the warm blood inched its way through my fingers and covered the scar on my wrist. I shook my head and let the tears come. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was focus on me. I cupped his cheek and whispered to him.
“I’m here, David. Focus on me, only me.”
I watched his lips move and the words I love you became his last.
Chapter Three
I sat in the bar and twisted the short glass between my palms. The dried blood rested under my fingernails. David’s essence still covered the side of my neck and stained my skin. It was all that remained of him now. Blood and nothing more, along with painful memories of his mocha brown eyes and beautiful smile. It left my stomach in knots. Not because I was in love with him but because I loved the idea of him.
I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip of whiskey. I had been sober for five years, but I felt like the events of the day had paroled me from the shackles of sobriety.
To be honest, I was shocked that I hadn’t done this sooner. I could ha
ve easily crawled my way back into the bottle when Fin died. Perhaps it would have lessened the impact of my diagnosis. Who knows? Not like it matters.
“Life is cruel,” I mumbled.
The bartender stepped up as he tapped his fingers on the black marble countertop that sat between us. “Would you like to clean up?” His eyes inspected me as he set a small white towel down in front of me.
“That’s the funny thing about blood, it gets on you, and it stains you forever, it gets everywhere. Under the nails, in the hair, soaked into clothing. I will probably carry David to the grave.”
“David who?” he asked.
I looked up at him and cocked my head. “Exactly.”
I tilted my head back and forced the remainder of the whiskey down my throat. It burned with that old familiar promise of numbness that I had once loved more than anything else in this world.
I set the glass down and gave the counter a tap with my rigid finger. He didn’t hesitate to fill my glass with another shot. “Make it two,” I muttered. He paused and then filled it a little further. The liquor swirled in the glass and lapped up against the ice cubes that hadn’t even had the opportunity to melt yet. I reached in and grabbed one, tossing it aside and then quickly snatched the other and did the same. They slid down the counter, and the man sitting to my right leaned back but said nothing after he looked me over.
“I never said on the rocks,” I grumbled. I’m not a very cheery drunk.
He responded calmly with a swipe of his towel on the counter to absorb the mess that I had made.
“Noted.” He said as he flipped the towel onto his shoulder.
“You could tell me to leave,” I said before I took another sip.
He leaned forward and placed his hands on the bar. “I’m not going to fight with you.”
I sighed, and my eyebrows shot up. I took another long drink and hissed as I set it down in front of me. The whiskey was working its way into my resolve, chipping away at that wall that I had so diligently constructed over time.
Bartenders. Damn them. Cheap therapy.
My bright eyes lifted and I grinned at him. “Do you want some company tonight?” I asked without hesitation.
He shook his head and leaned in closer to me. “You are a beautiful woman, but I would never take advantage of someone in your state of mind.”
I laughed. “State of mind? The irony.”
He narrowed his eyes, and I shot the rest of my whiskey. I tapped the counter.
He sighed. “How about something less potent?”
I pushed the glass toward him, and he had to catch it before it slid over the edge. “Are you cutting me off?” I asked. I lifted my hands and touched my nose with one hand then repeated it with the other.
“See? I’m absolutely fine.”
He grinned as he set the glass aside and looked me over. “I’m being responsible.”
I tapped the side of my head. “I have a ticking time bomb, right here.”
He pursed his lips and then relaxed them. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe over coffee? I get off in a half hour; I’d be happy to…”
He was too damn nice, and it reminded me of David. I shifted on the barstool and interrupted him. “Do you know any Latin?” I asked him while I tapped the counter with my open hand. The guy next to me got up and tossed a folded bill on the counter. His blue eyes lingered on me. “What?” I asked him, and he rushed off and out of the dimly lit bar.
The bartender tilted his head and grinned at me. “You really want to fight with someone tonight, don’t you?”
I sighed. “Latin, do you happen to know any?” I waved my hand around. “At least, I think it's Latin, who knows. I’m not a linguist, I’m a nurse, actually, a chemist. I started out in chemistry, and I was damn good at it. I wanted to follow in my brother's footsteps.” I paused and stared at my hands. “I wanted to help people, save them. Me…what a joke.”
He touched my hand, and I jerked it back from him.
“Hey, what happened?” he whispered to me.
My facial expression relaxed, and I laughed. He narrowed his eyes. I sighed. “It would be easier if you asked what didn’t happen.”
He parted his lips, and I was coming dangerously close to opening up.
“I’m a good listener.” He murmured.
I cleared my throat. “That’s great, so, do you know Latin?”
“Deflection.” He said.
I scowled. “If I wanted a shrink I would find one.”
He stood up straight. “I took it in college, only to impress women, of course, seeing that it’s a dead language.”
I giggled, and he narrowed his eyes. I waved a hand. “Dead language. I mean what is that, really? Some jerks come along and decide what languages can live and which ones can’t? It’s ridiculous, don’t you think?”
He let out a sigh. “I love all languages; I find them fascinating.”
“So, did it work?” I asked with a smirk.
“What?” he asked.
I rolled my hand over, allowing him to see my scars. He eyed them, and I moved forward with our strange conversation as if nothing bothered me.
“With women.” I swallowed hard and placed my chin in my hands. “The language thing, did it get you laid?”
“Oh, learning Latin?” he leaned forward. “Every time.” He said in a half whisper.
I stretched my shoulders and could hear a dull crack. “I bet.” I glanced down the bar and spotted a woman staring at me. I know I looked insanely inappropriate, covered in David’s blood. The severity of the situation was threatening to settle into my psyche, so I returned my attention back onto the bartender.
He leaned forward and touched my hand. “What happened?” he asked. I didn’t respond to him although my spirit begged for the company.
I moved my hand. “Videre in inferno, canis,” I whispered.
His brow furrowed. “What?”
I repeated the words. “Videre in inferno, canis. I know I’m probably saying it wrong, but do you know what it means?”
He leaned down. “Well, I’m a little rusty, but I think it means, see you in hell, hound.”
I rubbed the side of my neck. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Worse pick up line, ever. Apparently, the dude didn’t know what he was saying.” He added with the roll of his eyes.
“Yeah.” I nodded to him with a laugh. “Can I get one more?”
He placed a glass between us and filled it with water. I smiled and tossed some crumpled money on the black marble. He stared at it and then waved a hand. “It’s on me.” He said.
I stood up and walked away. “Take it; I won’t need it where I’m going.”
“Can I come with you?” he asked, and I turned back and winked at him.
“I thought you didn’t want to take advantage of someone in my state of mind.”
He placed his chin in the palm of his hand.
“I meant to talk.”
I laughed as I wagged my finger at him. “Tricky boy.”
He stood up straight and tried to conceal a grin.
“Well?” he added.
I paused. “I’m not a long term kind of girl.”
He stepped around the bar and approached me. He stopped in front of me, and I had to look up at his six-foot-four frame. Being tossed around by him wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now would it? Suddenly the ringing in my ears rose up, and everything else was drowned out. I placed my hands over them and closed my eyes. I felt a hand on my side, and it stopped just as quickly as it had started. I took a staggered breath and regained my composure.
“You okay?” he asked, and I faked a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.” I started to walk out, and he followed me. I stepped up to the curb and flagged a cab down. It rolled up to a stop, and I reached for the door handle. The bartender beat me to it and opened the door for me. I growled and then tapped the top of the cab. I turned to face him, and he was looking cuter by the minute, which could be dangerous. I had al
ways made my worst decisions on alcohol and traumatic circumstances. I cleared my throat and leaned forward, and he leaned in, giving me a gentle kiss on the lips. His hand cupped my jaw, and finally, I opened my eyes and bit my lip.
“You need to go back to work,” I whispered with a wink.
He leaned against the door and held onto the top of the window. “I’m off.”
“You need to walk away,” I said without remorse.
He licked his lip, and I could see the moisture lingering. It made my stomach tighten.
“I could speak Latin to you all night long.”
I cleared my throat and slid into the back of the cab, he stepped up, and I placed my hand on the door.
“Not this time, lover boy.”
I shut the door, and he stood there with his hands raised. I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes. “One-eighty-third and third.”
“Ah, the Bronx.” My cabby said with a nod.
I turned to watch the bartender make his way back into the bar. I touched the window and felt the temptation rising in me. I bit my lip and leaned back into the seat.
“Go home, Halo. Just go home.” I muttered to myself.
I leaned up and tapped on the back of the seat. “Can we make a stop at Mickey’s?”
The cab driver glanced at me and gripped the wheel. “Sure, but can I make a suggestion?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“Peppermint tea is a wonderful thing for hangovers.”
I laughed. “I don’t get hungover.”
He eyed me in the rearview mirror. “Oh, well, never mind then.”
I leaned back and then ran my fingers through my hair. “You know what? I’ll get some, what the hell, right? I mean, it sounds tasty. Do you think Mickey’s has any?”
“Mickey’s has everything.” He said with a smirk.
I snorted and tapped the back of his seat.
“You’re right. That store is ridiculous, but I’m also getting more alcohol. Tons of alcohol. All of it.”
He tipped his hat to me. “Of course, because what fun would it be to survive a night of debauchery?”
“Huh?”
