The Delusion

by Laura Gallier

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THE GROUND SPLIT OPEN.

  The cafeteria floor tiles disintegrated before my eyes, unveiling a place of unimaginable anguish. The walls looked like human body tissue and stretched down so far that I couldn’t see the bottom. A fire appeared to simmer below. Out of the tissue hung the dusty remains of countless arms, legs, heads—all kinds of scorched human appendages reaching and flailing to a sound track of agonizing crying, cursing, and wailing.

  I didn’t know how much more my body could take. I thought my heart might give out—too despondent to contract.

  I pressed my eyes closed as hard as I could, but not before seeing Creepers crawling over the pulsating walls of the pit, jabbing any shadowy soul that dared to try and claw out.

  It was a hate-filled place of torment that smoldered with heat but somehow worsened the chill in my stomach. All I could think about was how badly I didn’t want to go there, how no human belonged there.

  I opened my eyes, hoping it was over, but instead I saw the Creepers outside the pit leaning away, pushing against one another like they dreaded falling into the fiery chasm.

  Their crowned cult leader motioned for a certain Creeper to come forward: Traitor. He approached and stood by Molek’s side, then leaned and whispered into the king’s ear.

  A sinister grin crept across Molek’s face.

  One by one, he summoned Creepers forward. They were shoved to the ground, made to kneel before him, battered heads hung low. Sixteen in all, tattled on by Traitor. I could only assume they’d blundered their assignments—somehow failed to live up to the scars on their faces.

  Then came the king’s swift judgment: a ferocious kick to the chest, sending each of them hurtling backward into the sweltering hole. Immediately they went to work, patrolling and punishing captive souls—the dead, I presumed.

  Molek nodded at Traitor, releasing it to rejoin the ranks, but as soon as it turned, he shoved it from behind, plummeting the snitch into the pit with the others.

  I knew by now this king couldn’t possibly be God. If a Master of the universe existed, surely he didn’t need an informant to tell him anything. Even I knew that.

  Molek resumed his exalted position up front, mounted on the crooked backs of the same two Creepers. Then, like the ocean tide rushing up the shore, the ground closed over the pit, concealing the suffering dead.

  That’s when Molek’s demeanor changed. Narrowed eyes. Spastic movements. Intense, sharp gestures. Like old footage of Adolf Hitler. I couldn’t decipher his speech—his dialect was not of this earth—but his body language spoke volumes. He was mobilizing his troops, rallying them around a mission.

  He pointed outward and also to the ground as if referring to my classmates and my school. And he motioned toward certain groups of Creepers, giving them specific instructions.

  The energy in the room changed. The Creepers quit cowering and began to stir like fight dogs nearing an arena, frothing at the mouth.

  And with that, their leader tugged hard on the reins, commanding his slaves to carry him away. His back was to me.

  “I see you . . . Molek.”

  I only whispered it, but that’s all it took.

  His head snapped, rotating 180 degrees, his paralyzing eyes missile-locked on me. The reins fell from his hands, and he charged at me so fast I had no time to brace myself. No time to react at all.

  He lifted off the ground like he was racing up an invisible staircase, and in seconds, his face was inches from mine. His eyes were much more horrendous than I’d thought, black as the abyss he’d thrown Meagan into, pupils empty, not white like they’d appeared before. He hovered in midair, wrapping his long fingers around the banisters, the only barrier between us.

  He despised me. It was more than the callous look on his face—I could physically feel his hatred for me, like every cell in my body was being crushed under his heel of absolute loathing.

  He proceeded to open his mouth wide enough to swallow me whole, dislocating his jaws, his ghastly face now shockingly stretched. He let out a growl that felt like it might snap my bones.

  I officially began to hyperventilate.

  His fury didn’t last long—his skin began to crumble like ashes, and he faded into a smoky pollution, vanishing into thin air.

  The Creepers dispersed, but I stayed slumped on the stairwell, hands pressed around my throat, trying to breathe. The thought that my friends might be in that place, trapped in that hopeless hellhole . . .

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Finally I was able to pull myself up, then stand as the bell rang. People poured onto the stairwell.

  “Owen?” Ray Anne found me.

  I threw my arms around her and wouldn’t let go.

  “You’re trembling. What happened?”

  “I saw him, Ray Anne. The one who took Meagan. But he doesn’t just capture dead souls. He’s the one plotting against us.”

  “The suicides?”

  “All of it!” I gripped her arms and pulled her to me. “Molek, he’s leading the charge, commanding the Creepers. And there’s something else coming. I don’t know what or where, but they’re planning it. A mass attack. Something terrible!”

  She pressed a hand to my chest, over my lungs, her way of trying to calm me.

  “Come to my house after school,” she said, “and we’ll figure this out.” She hugged me tight. “It will be okay, Owen. You’ll see.”

  I didn’t believe her, but I was grateful beyond words for her.

  I skipped my last two class periods, parking my bike on a back road while I waited for school to get out. Sitting there with no noise, alone, just my thoughts, the sick irony of it hit me. Creepers want to be on the earth, attached to our lives, dwelling inside us if given half a chance, I’d imagine—far away from that pit of eternal torment. Yet they work tirelessly to see us end up there, tossed into the fire like bags of garbage while they go look for more victims.

  By now, I genuinely believed in heaven—a glorious place where people like Ray Anne and Ms. Ida are welcome, where Watchmen go to relax and hang their armor for a while and interact and maybe even laugh with human souls. I believed it because I felt it every time I laid eyes on the Watchmen—the undeniable sense that they hail from a kingdom all its own, a universe of peace far beyond the turmoil of this world and the evil that stalks it.

  But me? Would I be welcome there?

  My cell phone swooshed, and I jumped, still so jittery it was a challenge to unlock my screen.

  It was Jess. Are you going to Stella’s party tonight?

  Speaking of another universe.

  After school, Ray Anne welcomed me inside, and we sat in her dad’s cramped home office—the most private place in her house, which wasn’t saying much. Her parents liked to dive-bomb in on us every few minutes.

  “So what happened?” Ray Anne was anxious to know.

  “I get that every day or two I have some ridiculous story to tell you about things you can’t see or hear or anything, and you always seem to believe me, which is so awesome. But I have to warn you, Ray Anne. This is heavy.”

  She nodded.

  I told her everything I’d seen, and she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t think about that pit. It’s too terrible.”

  I wrapped my arm around her.

  When she eventually removed her hands, I could see that she’d teared up. “Molek . . . You think he’s Satan?”

  “Whoever he is,” I said, “we have to stop him—figure out what he’s planning and put an end to it.” Not that I’d been even remotely successful at stopping Creepers up to that point, but it wasn’t in my nature to wave the white flag.

  I was prepared for Ray Anne to start preaching at me about how we needed to ask for God’s help. Instead she leaned close, so close I thought she might kiss me after all.

  “Think how much more helpful I could be if I could see, like you do.”

  “No!” I yelled so loud that Mrs.
Greiner came running around the corner. It took Ray Anne a few minutes to convince her that we were fine.

  “I’ve already told you,” I said when we were finally by ourselves again. “Going to the well is never an option, much less drinking from it.”

  “But we could be a strong team, and—”

  “Ray Anne, listen to me.” I lowered to my knee in front of her chair, my hands on her shoulders. “That water will make you really, really sick. Like, deathly ill. You can never drink it. Ever. Okay?”

  A blank stare.

  “Promise me you’ll never try to find it.”

  More staring.

  “Ray Anne?”

  “Okay. Yes. I understand.” I sat in the chair beside her. “But I’m not afraid,” she said.

  I grabbed her hand. “I know. You’re a very brave person.”

  “Which is why I think you need me to be able to see.”

  “I need you to keep your promise.”

  We left it at that.

  My mom eventually texted and asked me to come home. I wasn’t sure what that was about. Ray Anne walked me to my motorcycle, and we noticed a train of cars lining the curb at the end of her street.

  “Stella Murphy’s party,” she said.

  I saw Dan go inside Stella’s house, some girl clinging to the back of his polo shirt. What did Jess see in him?

  I gave Ray Anne a hug and thanked her for being the best friend anyone could ever ask for. But I wanted to say more.

  “Ray Anne?” She looked up at me through her long eyelashes. “You’re the only thing that’s right in my world. The best thing that’s happened to me.” She blushed. “Look, I get it if you’re not ready to commit to me, but I can’t help it—I’m committed to you, Ray.”

  Another hug. The one place I felt at home.

  When I got to my house, my mom was waiting for me, a home-cooked meal on the table. Something was definitely up.

  “Everything okay?” I eyed her.

  “I hope so.”

  “What do you mean?” I sat across from her, trying to push the image out of my mind of her trapped in that pit someday.

  She took a bite of her chicken. Washed it down with her wine, then sat back in her chair. Some silence. “I’ve arranged a meeting for you with a good defense lawyer.”

  “Thank you.”

  Another silent pause. “Son, you know I’ll stand by you through thick and thin, no matter what.”

  I nodded.

  “But I need the truth. I’m not accusing you of harming those boys, but whatever happened, I need you to tell me. Right now.”

  This wasn’t like her, insisting on getting to the bottom of a situation. But then again, I’d never been a murder suspect before.

  I wanted to come clean—I seriously did. I was sick of deception, tired of having to spin my web of careful lies. But she refused to be open and honest with me. As long as I could remember, she dodged me every time I pressed her, changed the subject or shut me down completely.

  This wasn’t fair of her, demanding honesty of me.

  “All we did was play basketball, Mom, then chill in the woods awhile. That’s it. I swear.”

  I know—like mother, like son.

  I tried to watch TV, to take a load off my mind, but it didn’t stop the images of suffering. The memory of Meagan’s terrified face.

  Stella’s party crossed my mind. I started thinking maybe that’s where the Creeper plot against my classmates was set to go down.

  I texted Jess: You at the party?

  She replied: Almost there.

  No sense in warning her to stay home.

  I had a choice—to sit there and keep mulling things over, or to get up and try to make myself useful.

  I threw on my black Converse and texted Ray Anne: Stopping by Stella’s to check on things. I’ll tell you if I need you, okay?

  I knocked on Stella’s door. Would they let me in? My reputation wasn’t great these days. Some girl opened the door, and the smell of beer, weed, and Creepers assaulted me. The typical party scene—plus chains and cords and evil beings.

  The lights were dim, but I could see well enough to spy Dan in the corner with a girl on his lap. No sign of Jess yet.

  A guy from my third-period class struck up a conversation about college over the loud music, and I maintained that I was going premed. He was quick to say he was headed to A&M in the fall to be an engineer. It seemed like forever since I’d thought about career plans.

  I didn’t see any Creeper activity beyond the usual, but things got interesting when I stopped by a group gathered around a coffee table, playing with a Ouija board. My mom had always warned me to stay away from those things. I could see now that she was right.

  Two girls were touching the pointer, giggling and gasping as it slid across the board, spelling out one girl’s middle name. People looked on, debating whether it was the girls or ghosts moving it.

  “Neither,” I said. “It’s demons.”

  Gazing into hell’s terrors has a way of making you want to cut through the fluff and tell it like it is.

  “Shut up,” one of the girls said, the bigger airhead of the two.

  I leaned over and spoke in her ear. “It’s yanking a new, squirming cord out of your head right now, to abuse you with whenever it wants.” A fifth cord added to the four she already had.

  “You’re sick!”

  “These are enlightened spirits who’ve crossed over,” the other girl said. “They don’t want to hurt us.”

  “Really?” I almost laughed. “The one pushing the pointer is named Pain. And it’s staring straight at you.”

  Of course it gnashed its teeth at me.

  “How would you know?” a guy said to me. A dozen people were watching the conversation go down.

  I didn’t bother with an explanation. They were all shaking their heads at me anyway.

  I walked away and scooped a few M&M’s out of a snack bowl, then spotted Jess coming my way through the crowd, being careful not to spill her drink. When Jess finally made it to me, Dan walked up behind her and put his arm around her neck like he hadn’t just been all over another girl.

  “What’s this psycho doing here?” he said, eyes on me, his typical arrogant smirk on his face. “Looking for his next victim?”

  Jess averted her eyes to the floor.

  Dan opened his big mouth again, talking loudly. “Everyone, I’d stay on alert if I were you. We’ve got a murderer among us.”

  He was in my face. I stepped within a centimeter of his. “Watch it, Dan. You could be next.”

  I get that I’d technically just threatened his life and, in a sense, admitted I was responsible for Walt and Marshall’s deaths. But I’d gone from disliking this guy to despising him so bad that I could actually envision myself making him suffer.

  He pressed his finger in my chest, then made a gunshot sound under his breath, motioning like he’d just pulled a trigger.

  “Stop it, Dan,” Jess said.

  He pulled her away from me, into the crowd.

  I waited for the right moment—and found it when Dan stepped outside with some guys.

  “Jess, let’s leave. Don’t stay here with him.”

  “I’m sorry about earlier—he can be really mean sometimes.” Her speech was a slurred mess.

  “You can’t drive like this. I’ll take you home.”

  She took another sip of her drink, her dark hair plastered to her clammy neck, trailing down to her low-cut blouse. “Dan’s taking me.”

  I was ready to walk away at that point. I’d done my best. But something caught my attention when Jess’s midriff peeked out between the bottom of her shirt and her low-waisted jeans. It was strange and brilliant and alarming—and coming from her. I bent down and pulled her shirt up an inch, then stared at her midsection.

  “What are you doing?” She laughed.

  I grabbed her hand and led the way through the noisy, overcrowded hallway into a bedroom, closing the door behind us. “Jess
, you have to leave with me. We’re going. Now. And put that drink down.”

  “Why?” She took another big swig, and I grabbed the bottle and set it on top of a tall bookshelf.

  “Give me that!” She did a pathetic jump-and-reach. “You’re always protecting me from nothing.”

  “This isn’t about evil beings. It’s nothing like that. Don’t you know?”

  “Know what?” Her smile was flirtatious, intoxicated.

  I blurted it out. “You’re pregnant, Jess.”

  She stood there stunned, mouth open—then burst into laughter. “I am not.” She walked over to the bed like the ground was tilted toward it, then turned and fell backward onto the comforter. “And how would you know, anyway?”

  There was a tiny, laser-strong light emanating from her body—her uterus, I guess. It wasn’t much bigger than the tip of a fountain pen, but it was as bright as my megawatt flashlight.

  I sat beside her and hoisted her to an upright position. “It doesn’t matter how I know, Jess. I know. You’re pregnant. I promise.”

  She got weepy. I wasn’t sure if it was the hormones, the alcohol, or that she actually believed me. She put her head on my shoulder. “I’ve done so many things lately that you would be unhappy about.” A tear came streaming down her cheek. “Why are you even talking to me? I sold you out to the police.”

  She looked up, her eyes pitiful and longing.

  “We can talk about that later. Right now we’ve got to leave.”

  She slid her hand across my cheek, then behind my neck, pulling my face close, her lips nearly touching mine. The smell of alcohol on her breath made me want to puke.

  The door flew open. Given my luck, I figured it was Dan.

  I turned.

  Ray Anne.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “RAY ANNE!”

  I called to her, but she had already shoved her way out the front door. “Wait!” I rushed to catch up.

  She bolted on foot toward her house. I sprinted until I was close enough to reach out and touch her.

  “Ray Anne, stop!”

  She finally did, and we both stood there, sucking air under the night sky.