by Ronald Malfi
“No!” she sobbed. “No! We have nothing! Nothing! You killed—”
“I did what—”
“You fucking killed him!”
She ran to Gabriel in slow motion, her muscles working as if under water. As she drew closer, the obscenity of Gabriel’s form hit her—his face, crooked and broken; jaw shattered; eyes swollen shut, the lids a dark purple. Crying freely now, Kelly dropped to her knees just inches from the body. Wanting to touch him, too overwrought to know how, she oscillated between placing her hands on him, and pulling his lifeless body into her lap.
“God…”
Images flashed before her eyes: Gabriel as a child; Gabriel wearing his glasses while sketching pictures by the brook; Gabriel’s skinned knees poking through twin tears in his pants. These images whipped by with lifelike clarity, so deep inside her head that if she concentrated long enough she found she could actually go to them, become part of them and live there in the past inside her own head for the rest of her life.
I’m sorry, Gabriel.
It’s okay.
I’m so, so sorry.
Do what you have to do. Finish this.
“You can’t live inside that head of yours,” Simon said from behind her. She spun around and glared at him through the darkness, her hands trembling, her eyes fierce. “He was the best,” the monster continued, “because he truly cared for you. And it felt so good to end all that.” She could hear his skin crack as he grinned. “So good.”
“How can you expect me to give in to you now?” Despite her tremors, her voice was strong, defiant. “How can you expect me to follow you one goddamn step further into this hell?”
“Oh,” Simon whispered, “you will.”
The creature stepped aside, allowing the full heat of the red light to wash over Kelly’s body. Instantaneously, her flesh broke out in beads of sweat. The heat was potent enough to sting the serration at her forehead and feel the heat course through her lifeblood, though she was in a place beyond pain and did not notice.
“Beats,” Simon muttered, no longer looking at Kelly. He had stepped around the floor, allowing the pulsing red heart in the floor to beat between the two of them. “Beats the heart.”
One of the floorboards sprung up at a forty-five degree angle. She heard wood splinter and crack. A plume of dust exploded from beneath it, tinged red from the light beneath the floor. With a crunch, a second board wrenched free of the floor, crossing over with the first to make an X. A welt of steam billowed from the crevice, tinged red from the light. As if there were a busted steam pipe down there. For one wild instant, the vapor appeared to assemble and solidify in midair, creating a meshed veil between her and Simon. In that instant, only the ghost-boy’s eyes were visible through the shroud, alight with wicked desperation. Between them, the floor continued to split apart, to widen; floorboards like spears shot across the room, whizzing through the darkness and landing soundlessly in the black. With a sound like tearing cloth, Kelly could see jagged lightening bolt zigzags weave across the floor, spreading out like runnels of blood in every possible direction.
Around her, the walls began to shake. A cry caught in her throat. She pushed herself back against the wall, struck Gabriel’s lifeless body, and screamed into the confusion. Her eyes moved up and through the rising steam, which was now dispersing through the atmosphere like mist on a lake, and saw that Simon’s eyes were no longer there, staring at her. She couldn’t see him at all.
With a sound like crashing thunder, a number of floorboards exploded from the widening hole in the floor and shot into the air. Immediately, the red light blinded her and she brought her arms up before her face. The heat was oppressive and unparalleled. The stink of sulfur burned her sinuses.
Simon appeared at her side, his face so close now she could smell the acrid fumes of his breath, could make out every minute pock and nick and furrow in his fishlike flesh. His eyes were suspended in deep, black hollows in his skull, the skin around them purple and flaking. His lips were peeling and crusted with dried saliva; his teeth were like the heads of rusted spades.
“Beats,” he breathed over her. Repulsed, she recoiled, her body still wracked with sobs. “Disappointing. You were stronger when you were a child.”
She felt his presence float around her, shift, and move in front of her. Even with her eyes closed she could see him moving across the floor like a phantom, his pale and sickly skin meshing seamlessly with the evaporating steam all around them. She opened her eyes and saw him creep to the edge of the hole in the floor, stare down into the blinding red glow. The light did not affect him: he looked straight at it without wincing. It reflected in his eyes, gleamed in the moisture on his lips and on the surface of his teeth. She felt herself begin to slide across the floor. Her feet skidded against the flooring but did not stop her.
“Get out of my head!” she screamed.
“My head, too,” Simon muttered without facing her. He seemed entranced staring into that gaping maw at his feet. “It’s my head too.”
Kelly’s body shuddered and came to a stop beside Simon. The toes of her sneakers broke over the edge of the hole in the floor, and she felt a blast of heat and steam rush up and over her. Sweat ran down her temples, her neck. Her shirt clung wetly to her chest.
“Look down,” he told her. But he didn’t have to say anything; she’d already dropped her head to look.
She saw the surface of a massive, pumping organ—a heart—slick with membrane and embedded with a network of enormous veins and arteries, each twisted and tangled about one another. White pustules clung to its surface in patchy clusters, like wild mushrooms. At the top of the heart was a large, fleshy, muscular value that opened and closed like a mouth. It was from within this valve, this opening, the red light issued. With each closing of the valve, the light was cut off, though it was strong enough to radiate at half its potency through the walls of the organ; subsequently, each time the valve opened, the red light broke out and flooded the room amidst a billowing waft of steam. It was like an engine, Kelly thought—a living engine, thriving beneath the floor and buried deep within the ground…
The heart of Never, she thought.
“Do you know what the heart is?” Simon whispered beside her. She could hardly hear him now, her mind too focused on the steady pulsation in the pit just beyond her feet. “Do you know what the true heart of Never really is, Kellerella?”
It’s life, she thought. It’s the originator of this whole mess, the catalyst for all this insanity. It beats…
The valve suddenly seized, stretched, and folded back on itself like a sleeve. The intensity of the light seemed to grow. The steady rise in heat caused the splintered ends of the overhanging floorboards to blacken and curl. Tendrils of black smoke spiraled to the ceiling.
Kelly felt a thousand cold hands at her back. Again, she was consumed by the feeling that Simon was all around her—even a part of her—and that he was struggling to control her. She struggled harder to fight his control.
“In,” Simon said.
She could feel her feet sliding toward the mouth of the pit, the hair on her head now being blown back by the tremendous heat pouring from the heart. In her mind she forced herself to remain still, but Simon was too strong. There was truth to all he said: that over time, he’d become stronger while she’d grown weaker. And was there any way of refusing him now? Any way of beating him?
Heart, she thought. Heart.
“Do you know what the heart is?” he asked again. “Do you really understand it all?”
And for one outrageous instant, she thought she understood—that she almost grasped what the heart actually symbolized—but the notion was fleeting, and too quick for her to retain.
“In,” Simon repeated, his voice now infused with a million other voices, a million hands still at Kelly’s back. “Cross through the dream world, Kelly.”
And he shoved her.
The world spun in slow motion. Up and down repositioned perspectives. She sa
w bright, soundless flashes of memories whip through her mind like subliminal codes, each punctuating a certain moment of her descent. In the air—in the air—in the air—the world turning and turning and turning about her.
She felt a swarming heat overtake her, followed by the cushioned embrace of unconsciousness. Her last thoughts before falling into the black were of hopelessness.
“She seems calm now,” Josh said. He was sitting beside Nellie’s bed in a chair from the kitchen, bent over the side with his hands folded between his knees. “Is there something you can do for her? Something you can check?”
Carlos smoked outside the bedroom door. “Check?” he said. “What is there to check? She’s breathing…”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe she lost the grip on your friend. Maybe it was a false alarm.” But he didn’t believe it himself. The air was still alive with Nellie’s static charge; even breathing felt like swallowing oxygen diluted with battery acid. Perhaps the prior calamity had been the result of Nellie crossing over some mental fence, and now she was safely on the other side, safely nestled in this Kelly woman’s head. Or, he also thought, maybe Kelly had suddenly ceased to exist, leaving the old woman in a deep and harmless sleep.
Leaning his head back against the frame of the door, Carlos closed his eyes and tried to reach for the waves of current rippling in the air. It felt like daydreaming, nothing more, and the deeper he allowed himself to slide, the more potent the current seemed to become—as if his resignation enabled him to become an empty container ready to be filled. Daydreaming…yet with a certain momentum behind each thought. The air was a hallucinogen, capable of undefined manipulation.
He thought of his unborn son. Dreamlike and suspended, he tried to seek out truth in the airborne power. Fueled by the consumption of such power, his mind coalesced poorly defined notions and images into specifics, into unconscious reality. Where are you, Julian? he called. Is there any part of you out here that I can grab hold of? Is there any part of you lingering in all this power that can give me some sort of sign, some sort of reassurance?
“She’s moving,” Josh said, startling the doctor.
Carlos opened his eyes. His cigarette had burned down to the quick, nearly to his fingers. He wondered just how long he’d been meditating. “Waking up?”
Josh shook his head and stood from the chair. “No, I don’t think so. Just…moving.”
Slowly, as if influenced by some outside force, the old woman’s head moved side to side against her pillow. She did not look relaxed; rather, her eyes were squeezed shut and moisture had collected at the corners. The muscles in her jaw flexed. Her good hand quivered the slightest bit, the fingers twitching.
Josh looked nervous. “Do you think she’s gonna have another seizure?”
“I don’t know.”
Carlos moved toward the bed, reached for his medical bag. He produced an ophthalmoscope and bent down, placing his thumb against the old woman’s left eyelid and pulling it open.
He jerked his hand away. “Son of a bitch.”
Josh looked up. “What?”
“Eyes rolled back.”
“What does that mean?”
“Something with her brain,” Carlos said.
“You can’t—”
Both of Nellie’s eyes flipped open, her lips suddenly drawing together. A subdued look crossed her face.
“Jesus,” Carlos whispered. “Nellie? Nellie?”
“Can you hear us?” Josh chimed in.
The old woman just stared at the ceiling. She looked very peaceful.
Carlos went back to his medical bag. “Nellie, if you can hear me, what I’m going to do is—”
Nellie’s voice cut through him: “We’re in the heart.”
Both Carlos and Josh froze, staring at each other. It wasn’t Nellie’s voice; yet it was. Deeper. Resonating from someplace other than her body. No—she was merely using her body as a voice box, as a conduit. She was speaking from someplace else. Someplace distant.
“We’re in the heart.”
“The heart?” Carlos said.
“Did you find Kelly?” Josh said. “Did you find her? Is she all right? Is she there? Did you find her?”
“Heart,” Nellie muttered. Her eyelids began to flutter. Carlos reached his arms out for her…then retracted, suddenly aware of the intense flow of electricity radiating from Nellie’s body.
“Do something!” Josh shouted. “She’s fading!”
“Josh…”
“Goddamn it! Nellie, did you find her? Is she all right? Tell me! Don’t go until you tell me!”
Nellie’s eyes closed, her mouth went slack. Her hand ceased twitching and fell still.
“It’s building,” Carlos whispered, taking a step away from the bed. He could feel the air tightening again, becoming stronger all around him. His stomach groaned, caterwauled, threw punches. “Josh…”
Josh was not listening. He clung to Nellie’s bedside like a child reluctant to leave a place of comfort, his brows drawn together in panic and frustration. “Did you find her?” he shouted repeatedly. “Did you find her? Did you find her?”
“Josh,” he said again, now backing toward the bedroom door. “Damn it, Josh, listen to me.”
Josh shook his head. “Is she dead, Doc?”
“Just the opposite.” He brought a finger up, straight into the air. “Can you feel it? It’s building again.”
Behind Josh, the plastic taped to the bedroom window began to rustle, as if accosted by a harsh wind.
“Oh.” Josh said this almost matter-of-factly, and turned to move away from Nellie’s bedside.
“Come on,” Carlos urged, already feeling his stomach start to cramp. “Let’s get the hell out in the hallway before she blows our minds—”
The bedroom door slammed shut and they both jumped.
“Shit,” Josh said, his voice half-choked.
Carlos rushed to it, grabbed the knob, tried to open it. Stuck. He rubbed his hands down his pants then went for the knob again—only to pull his hands away, tweaked by a spark of blue light. Behind him, dresser drawers began to slam and split down the middle. He felt his stomach edge closer and closer to some invisible hillside. It’s like climbing the first drop of a roller coaster, he thought. Just waiting for the drop.
And he knew the drop could come at any second.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
She is aware of darkness and light; of alternating chemistries, both false and real, and the strain of multiple complexities against her skin, her body. There is a sensation of union here, an impression of spontaneous augmentation. Individuality becomes indistinct. She is aware of propulsion, of moving forward—pushed forward. The heat around her becomes physical and operates as cilia, orchestrating her progression in fluid undulations. She moves toward an ending, a beginning. And though she works at it, she finds there is no thinking here, no contemplation…and it occurs to her that she is in the middle of it all, of everything. Of herself. She is here and she is now. And not alone. That strain presses against her, holds her together, yet threatens to tear her apart at the same time. She feels the walls breathe. She feels another presence…and then another—a third—yet far off in the distance. Again, she tries to think, but finds only that her thinking is now a physical thing and she is powerless to understand anything in this black-and-white void. Her mind is a patterned maze extended before her through which she now falls. Her body feels like a thousand arms and fingers, each of them probing against individual darkness. This cavernous channel, dense with fluid heat, convulses to expel her and donate her body to another world. Yet…a familiar world. This is a passage, she understands. This is a portal, a conduit, a wormhole.
Inside the heart.
Then she was suddenly there in familiar darkness.
At first, she could hear only her breath coming in quick little gasps. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out shapesrancor of rotting citrus fruit. The smell of cloth, of wool, and old clothes col
lecting dust. Urine. Lilac, though faintly.—familiar shapes—all around her: a door; a bed; a hand-carved rocking chair clogged with stuffed toys; an open window; a figure beneath the bed sheets. Smells came next, almost cloying. Medicinal smells, coupled with the
The room came into focus all around her. It was Becky’s bedroom, she realized, and she now stood in the middle of it. To her left, the single window stood open, letting in cold air. It felt good against her skin. She realized she was covered in sweat and breathing heavy. And her mind—it was confused, muddled. As she stood there in darkness, she could feel it slowly unraveling itself, putting all the pieces back into their proper locations. Nothing felt quite right, quite real. Like she’d been superimposed against the backdrop of this room.
Heart, she thought, remembering it all at the same speed as her thoughts returned to her. This house is the heart of Never. And that makes sense. And it did: the cold, lonely place where she grew up was what had cultivated her powers, pushed her toward progression, forced her mind to expand. It was this house, indirectly responsible for all she’d become and all she’d created. This house and those who occupied it. How come I couldn’t see that just a moment ago? How come I didn’t realize this is the true heart of Never, that solitude is the birthplace of both creation and madness?
She remembered Simon at the same moment she saw him move against the far wall, beside Becky’s bed.
“No!” she shouted, and the room appeared to waver in front of her eyes. Was the room even real? Was she really inside her parents’ home, or was this just another illusion? Another fabrication brought to life through the powers of her mind? “You don’t touch her.”
“And what is it to you?” Though he was solid and real in front of her, Simon’s voice came at her from numerous directions, pelting her like birds from the sky. “What does she mean to you?”
“She’s my sister.”
“And so what?” He shook his head, his face half-masked by shadows. The inconstant terrain of his face and scalp was almost visible. He was so close to Becky he could reach down and caress her face. “All those years,” he mumbled. “How often did you think about her while you were away?”
