Valley of the Shadow

by Pawlik, Tom

  48

  MITCH AND NATHAN TURNED AROUND, followed the freeway back to an exit ramp, and descended into the Gray City. They made their way down decaying streets, weaving between enormous chunks of stone and debris. Traffic signals were rusted and bent, and some buildings had been completely reduced to rubble. It reminded Mitch of one of those science fiction movies about a post-apocalypse world—after all civilization had been destroyed and only mutants roamed the streets.

  That wasn’t so far from the truth.

  They traveled for another half hour, winding through block after block of the desolate city. Mitch kept an eye out for all the other souls Nathan had told him about. But so far he hadn’t seen any. Then again, this was a big place. Bigger than any city from the material world. Mile after endless mile of decaying buildings, like a sober testament to all of man’s endeavors. A grim reminder that everything he achieves in life will be left behind to rot and decay. All around Mitch were thousands of years of human history and accomplishment… and this was all that remained of their efforts. Sooner or later everything returned to dust.

  The lyrics to a song started rolling through Mitch’s head again. “Dust in the wind . . . all we are is dust in the wind.”

  The vast emptiness seemed to suck the energy out of Mitch. Soon the overcast sky began to grow dark and Nathan pulled into what appeared to be a parking garage. Mitch followed.

  “What’s up?” he said as they parked.

  “We should get off the streets before dark.”

  Mitch raised an eyebrow. “You mean because of the Reapers? I thought you said we were safe.”

  “You are for now. But you still don’t want to be out in the open. He can call them. Coordinate them. And he can use them to bring you back to him.”

  “Who? Howard?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “Well . . . the power that’s controlling him.”

  “So they are still a threat—these Reapers. They’re still dangerous. I mean… they’ll drag me off with them?”

  Nathan held up the blue chalk. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

  Mitch stared at the innocuous-looking chalk. “With that? Dude… the window tricks were cool and all that, but I mean, I’ve seen these Reapers in action and—no offense—I don’t think that’s going to—”

  Nathan smiled. “Mitch, you’re still walking by sight, aren’t you? God likes using the things you least expect in ways you’d never guess.”

  He led Mitch into the adjacent building through an access door. The building looked like an old hotel. Something that may have once been a five-star establishment but here in the Interworld was just a decaying shell, void of all comfort and cheer.

  The front desk and concierge counters were covered with dust and debris. Without any power, the elevators were completely useless. They found a pair of couches in the lobby and pulled them closer together. Nathan drew a wide circle on the marble floor around them. Maybe fifteen feet in diameter or so. After a few seconds, it began to glow. Smoke wafted up from the chalk line, swirling in the faint blue light.

  They stretched out on the couches with a low table between them. Outside the sun had set and now a pall of darkness fell over the city.

  But inside the lobby, the chalk line continued to glow and faint blue tendrils of smoke reached to the ceiling.

  Mitch gazed into the light. “So what is it about this chalk? How does it work? Magic?”

  “Not quite,” Nathan chuckled. “It’s a little technical, but in layman’s terms, the chalk is made of inversely charged quantum particles in a state of temporal flux.”

  Mitch stared at him for several seconds. “Dude, I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “So what are you, some kind of physicist?”

  “Nope. Plumber.”

  “C’mon, dude, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

  Nathan propped himself up on an elbow. “Mitch, I don’t know about you, but ever since I’ve been outside my body, my mind’s been able to grasp concepts I never even knew about before. It all just seems to make sense somehow.”

  “I managed to do a little extracurricular reading myself since I’ve been here. Y’know, trying to expand my intellectual capacity.” Mitch shrugged. “I guess I haven’t gotten around to all the quantum mechanics stuff yet.”

  “Actually, it’s transdimensional physics.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Mitch said. He pointed to the glowing circle. “But on another note… exactly how long will this last? I mean, those windows you made only lasted a few minutes.”

  “That’s because a window’s more concentrated,” Nathan said. “Requires a lot more energy. But all this circle does is generate a low-level inversely charged field of quantum particles. It should last five or six hours. And the Reapers know better than to mess with it.”

  Mitch frowned. “But if the stuff is that dangerous, how come you can touch it?”

  “Right now our spirits are in a slightly higher state of resonance than the rest of the energy in this dimension.”

  “Because we’re not quite dead yet?”

  “Exactly,” Nathan said. “But as we die, our resonant state begins to enter conformity with this dimension.”

  “And what happens then?”

  “That’s the point of no return.”

  Mitch leaned forward. “So . . . is that what the purple rash is? Right before they drag someone off?”

  “That’s one of the manifestations, yes. And once it takes over, there’s no hope of ever being resuscitated.”

  Suddenly from out in the street they could hear a low moaning sound. Like the wind had picked up and was howling through the vacant buildings. This continued for several minutes. Mitch felt a chill race down his back. This was more than just the wind.

  Far off in the distance came a shrill cry for help. A human voice. A terrified shriek that lasted several seconds, echoing through the streets. The sheer terror in the scream was unnerving. Mitch had heard these before. He covered his ears.

  “You hear them?” Nathan said, his voice just above a whisper. “The Reapers are coming for them.”

  Mitch’s heart was pounding now. He sat up. “Is this going to last all night? How am I supposed to get any sleep? How could anyone sleep through this?”

  “Sleep? Who said anything about sleep? I just said we needed to get off the streets before dark. You’re still thinking in terms of your physical body. Your spirit doesn’t need sleep.”

  “I used to be able to sleep. Back on the farm.”

  “Because you thought you were still in your body. Same with hunger or thirst. They’re all just memories of what your body used to feel and require.”

  “So this hunger I’m feeling is all in my head?”

  “Technically, your head is back in the hospital with the rest of your body. It’s really all in your mind.”

  Mitch sat back and listened to the deep moaning and the occasional scream of terror. He closed his eyes. These were human beings. Souls being dragged away to a place… Mitch had no idea what it was like and no interest in finding out either. Still, he couldn’t help but feel sickened at every cry for help. He opened his eyes.

  Nathan was watching him. “There’s nothing you can do for them.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier to listen—” Mitch stopped. Beyond the soft curtain of blue light encircling them, in the shadows of the lobby…

  Something moved.

  49

  DEVON GRIPPED THE WHEEL as he navigated carefully through the side streets. Pale Man was lounging in the backseat giving directions and singing to himself. Something about Romeo and Juliet and not fearing the Reaper. Devon thought it was a rock song from way before his time. He thought maybe he’d heard it once or twice before, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Yo, man, you mind tellin’ me what that was all about back there?”

  “That was about an insurance policy, chief,” Pale Man said. “I
just wanted you to see what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into. In case you’re thinking of doing anything stupid.”

  Devon felt his jaw clench. Oswald Karenga had killed Devon’s bosses and Devon had no idea why. He tried to recall the events leading up to the shooting that night, but it was all a blur. He couldn’t remember meeting with J.G. and Apollo. And he didn’t remember any deal they were involved in for Karenga. In fact, he still couldn’t remember much of anything from that entire day.

  Pale Man was still singing that stupid song. Devon finally swore at him. “Man, don’t you know any hip-hop or something? I’m sick of that song.”

  Pale Man clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Nothing like perpetuating a stereotype, chief. I think you need to expand your musical tastes a little. This is a classic rock song. Back when music was really music. When guys played real instruments instead of looping digitized segments of music that other people had recorded and calling it a new genre.”

  Devon swore at him again.

  Pale Man chuckled. “Ah, but don’t get me on my soapbox. If you want to run around with your hip-hop and your double negatives and your baggy pants hanging down around your knees, you go right ahead. You think that’s some kind of ghetto culture thing, that’s fine with me. Personally, I think you’re your own worst enemy, but that’s just my opinion.”

  “Man . . . whatever.”

  “Good rebuttal. Very articulate.”

  “So what is this thing Karenga wants?”

  Pale Man leaned forward. “See, you’re in what’s called a ‘need-to-know’ situation. I just wanted you to understand how terribly upset Mr. Karenga is with you. So you don’t stray off the reservation. As it were.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Sure you did. You just don’t remember it.”

  “Because you’re keeping me from remembering.”

  “See there?” Pale Man flashed his rotted teeth in a grin. “You can display such blinding flashes of brilliance—however brief. Now, I can help you get out of this little jam, but I just want to make sure I have your undivided attention. And your willing cooperation. Understand?”

  Devon muttered, “Not like I got much of a choice.”

  Pale Man leaned back again. “Everyone has a choice, chief. Everyone.”

  Devon was quiet for several seconds. “So what do I gotta do?”

  “You remember that lawyer who visited you yesterday? Hayden?”

  Devon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He’d been trying to forget that. Forget the whole creepy experience. “Yeah.”

  “You recall he mentioned a mutual acquaintance of yours. Mitch Kent. You do remember Mitch, don’t you?”

  “Big white guy. Tattoos.”

  “Exactly. Well, it seems our buddy Mitch is in a coma. His body is, anyway. But his mind—his spirit—is still in that place you’re trying so hard to forget.”

  Devon shuddered. All he knew was that he never wanted to see that place again. Ever.

  Pale Man went on. “See, that place is sort of a dimension in between dimensions. Like the hallway connecting two rooms. One room is life and the other is… well, not life. But poor Mitch is still kind of lingering out in the hallway. And all I want you to do is just give him a little nudge. Move him along to the next room. That’s all.”

  “Kill him. You want me to kill him.”

  “Now see, that’s an awfully harsh term to use. I want you to free him. Release him. Cut his mortal bonds. Help him to… y’know, move on.”

  “Why can’t you do that yourself? You seem to be able to make people do whatever you want.”

  Pale Man waved his hand. “Well, it’s all a little complicated. I’ve got certain constraints to work within. A subject has to be conscious for one thing. Plus there’s a whole bureaucracy involved. Approvals to get. Forms to fill out. Bottom line is we generally outsource this kind of job. Go with what we call a codependent contractor. And that’s where you come in.”

  “Yo, man.” Devon was shaking his head. “I told you, man, I can’t kill no one. I ain’t never killed no one before.”

  “If you could hear yourself with my ears.” Pale Man chuckled. “So, anyway, here’s the thing. You cooperate with me and I’ll help you retrieve your heretofore unremembered item of extreme importance for Mr. Karenga so he doesn’t kill you. Now I think that’s a pretty darn good deal, if I do say so myself.”

  Devon bit his lip and swore. Oswald Karenga probably had his entire security force out looking for him at this very moment. There was no way to be sure Pale Man would ever keep his word even if Devon did cooperate. On the other hand, if this Mitch guy was as bad off as Pale Man had described, it wouldn’t really be like killing him. The guy sounded like he was half-dead anyway.

  Devon was starting to feel sick inside and he knew he was in trouble.

  He was in a boatload of trouble.

  “Okay,” he said at length. “What do I have to do?”

  50

  MRS. BRISTOL’S PLEASANT expression had morphed into an icy stare. Conner’s heart pounded hard against his ribs and he felt dizzy.

  “Now . . . now, hold on a second,” he said, but his voice sounded thin and weak. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m not trying to cause any trouble.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that,” Mrs. Bristol said. Her grandmotherly demeanor had all but evaporated. “You see, Stewart and Anna Grady were my parents. They used to own this farm. I grew up here. Right in this very house. They passed away thirty-five years ago now. And their son, Felix, was my brother. He’s gone too.”

  Conner felt as if the floor had dropped out from underneath him. His knees buckled and he sat down again. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can explain.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Mrs. Bristol said. “Start by telling me who you really are and what you want with my husband. Why were you in his room today?”

  Conner opened his mouth to explain, but before he could get a word out, Mrs. Bristol continued. “Because if you think for one minute you can get me to remove that tube, you are sorely mistaken.”

  “I don’t want you to remove his feeding tube,” Conner said. “In fact if you really do love him, you should probably do everything you can to keep him alive.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”

  “And I’m not with any insurance company or anything either. My name is Conner Hayden. I’m from Chicago. I’m not trying to get you to do anything. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthcoming. But really… I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you the truth.”

  Mrs. Bristol folded her arms. “Try me.”

  Conner’s mouth was dry. His eyes flitted between Mrs. Bristol and her imposing son. He needed to defuse the tension in the room. He’d been caught in a deception and didn’t want to add to the mess with more lies. But he knew he’d have to be judicious with the facts. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth.

  “The truth is . . . I had a heart attack two months ago. My heart stopped beating for something like fifteen or twenty minutes. I had a near-death… an out-of-body type of experience. And during that time, I met… I met your husband.”

  Mrs. Bristol’s eyes widened momentarily. She glanced at Owen, who remained silent, leaning back in his chair. Then she turned again to Conner. “You’re telling me you met Howard during a… a what?”

  “I know it sounds crazy. But I didn’t even know what was happening to me. I didn’t know I was dying. Everything seemed so real. I met a few other people. And Howard too. And he invited us here. We stayed in this house. Right here on this farm.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” Mrs. Bristol leaned forward. “I suppose now you’re going to tell me that Howard said he wants me to sell the farm to you. Or that he wants me to take out his feeding tube and let him die.”

  Conner sighed. This wasn’t going well. “I told you already, I don’t want you to take out his feeding tube. And I don’t want your farm. I… I was just
curious. That’s all. I just wanted to see him for myself. Just so I could know that I wasn’t going crazy.”

  Conner decided he’d better not tell her anything about Howard’s connection with the demonic creatures, how he’d been working with them and how he’d led Conner into a trap.

  “After I recovered, I tried to look up all the people I had met. To see if they were real. And to prove to myself that what had happened to me was real. That’s when I learned your husband was in this coma. I had to come and see it for myself. That’s all. I was just curious.”

  Mrs. Bristol sat back for a moment, her arms still folded and her lips puckered slightly. She cast a sideways look at Owen. “What do you think?”

  Owen shook his head. “The dude’s crazy.”

  Mrs. Bristol turned back to Conner. “You see, Mr. Hayden, I’ve been getting a great deal of pressure from my doctor to simply accept the inevitable. That my Howard won’t ever recover. They tried to operate. To relieve some of the pressure. But now they’re saying they can’t do any more for him.” She wagged her finger again. “But I’m not going to give up. Howard is a strong man. He’s a good man. And he deserves to live.”

  Conner started to reply but the words caught in his throat. He tried again. “I’m sure he does. And I certainly wish you the best.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Then Conner stood again. “Look, Mrs. Bristol, I sincerely apologize for any trouble or worry I may have caused you. I hope you can understand why I did it.”

  She just looked at him for a moment. Then at length, she nodded. “I understand. And I believe you.”

  “You do?” Conner raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “He’s here, you know. Howard is here.”

  “What?”

  She went on. “I can feel him here with me sometimes. I can sense his presence. I think he’s trying to reach me. He’s trying to come back to us.”

  Conner wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Well then . . . I hope everything works out for you.”