by Alton Gansky
A face pushed through the watery partition and Ray gasped loudly. It was just as vile, just as soul jarring as the first time. The eyes were coal black and small, deeply recessed into the fleshly lump that was the creature’s enormous head. The eyes sparkled as if painted with glitter. There was no nose, but several large openings dotted the face, opening and closing as if the stomas were breathing. The skin was bluish ash-gray. A long, thin slit that Ray took to be a mouth ran just above the bottom of the jaw.
The creature turned its head to the right then to the left. It was staring at Ray through its tiny eyes. Its skin churned and bubbled, as if something boiled just beneath it.
It opened its wide mouth.
It spoke to Ray in a rumble that sounded like distant thunder.
It said, “Come.”
The verse Shackleton had quoted slammed to the front of Ray’s mind. “For God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into Hell and committed them to pits of darkness.”
It repeated: “Come.”
Ray fought the rising gorge of nausea that threatened to erupt. His legs shook and he gasped for air. He was crossing from terror to madness.
“COME.”
“Do it,” Devlin shouted behind him. “Do it now!”
Images raced in Ray’s mind. He saw Skeeter as she was now, but also as a toddler. He remembered holding her in his arms, rocking her when she cried, even reading from his own writings when she insisted on being awake throughout the night. His voice always quieted her. Her image quieted him. He saw Nora dressed in her wedding gown, she was smiling in a way she so seldom did now.
He regretted his life. He had been a good husband and loving father, but he hadn’t appreciated the life God had given him. Now that life, he believed, was about to be suctioned away.
Ray started forward, propelled by the thought that his death, if that was what was to be, might save Nora and Skeeter. It was a small price to pay if it did.
Taking a deep breath, he paused one step from the bulbous head of the creature. The being withdrew into the portal. “Help me Jesus,” he said. “Shackleton was right. I need You. I need You now.”
Ray crossed the threshold.
At first Ray sensed nothing. He expected to feel the splash of cold water as he crossed the fluid membrane that defined the portal, instead he felt as if he had been sucked into a void. All sense of direction lost meaning. One moment he stood a short distance away from the cascading partition, the next he was in a world that not even he as a writer of fiction could imagine.
Above him was a purple, black, and red sky that reminded him of astronomy pictures of distant nebulae. Dim lights flashed through the foggy sky like tiny stars exploding into existence only to die a second later. Around him the air was dark and thick. He could feel it move across his face like a heavy mist. The air was foul with an odor Ray couldn’t recognize.
Looking at his feet, Ray saw the strange ground upon which he stood. The earth was porous and hard like a sponge left in the desert air. Wisps of gas floated up from the holes near his feet. He took a step that caused more of the vapor to rise, and reminded him of wet wool.
Ray was disoriented. The world was stranger than any he had read in a sci-fi novel and yet he knew he couldn’t perceive it all. That there was more to what he was seeing, but his brain could make sense of only part of it. What little he could understand terrified him. As a child he read novels about traveling to other worlds, seeing what no one else had seen. To his young mind it was the highest adventure a person could experience. Now, he wished he couldn’t see at all.
Ray turned and looked sdown the short path he had traveled. He had taken no more than three steps. Behind him should be the curtain of water, the marker between the world he knew and the one he now occupied. It was gone.
Despite his determination to be courageous, Ray shook with fear. His knees felt weak again, his stomach tightened into a fist-sized knot, and his breathing accelerated. He was lost. Just three steps and he was lost in a land he knew nothing about.
The thick air moved around him, the tangible twilight closed in with suffocating intensity. Ray’s heart rumbled in his chest like a speeding freight train.
For the first time in his life, Ray felt truly alone.
“Countless, countless, we.”
The voice came from inside Ray’s head, but the words weren’t his. Ray turned and saw two figures standing before him. He immediately took a step back, then paused. These beings looked different from what he had seen in the lab. Their heads were large and bulbous as before, but their eyes were different, larger, and their skin showed no signs of churning. They appeared taller than Ray, but he doubted his ability to judge dimensions. Nothing was right.
“Countless, countless, we.”
“I don’t understand.” He had to force the words from his mouth. His voice sounded weak, hollow, little more than a whisper.
“Types and kinds many, we.”
The creatures approached, gliding along the surface as if suspended by wires. “Countless, countless, we. Types and kinds, many, we.”
“Many types and kinds,” Ray said, deciphering their words. He had no idea if his assumption was right.
The beings stopped within arm’s reach. Ray took a step back, and they advanced. Ray’s first impulse was to run, but he stood his ground. Not out of courage, but because he feared becoming more lost than he already was.
“Interference none from you. Life no more, you.”
Ray needed no interpreter to recognize the threat. “What do you want?”
“You. You interfered. Punishment.”
They pressed forward and Ray took another step back. They were terrifying but Ray sensed they were tortured beings. “Leave me alone,” Ray shouted. That too was a whisper.
A hand caught Ray by the throat. One of the creatures pulled him close. His arms and legs trembled. This was the end. He had no defenses for such a situation. This was where he would die. Ray wished for a moment with his family, longed for an opportunity to say the things he should have said many times before. Most of all, he wanted to see Skeeter. She had been right about so many things. She had been right about her mother and been right about faith. Ray chastised himself for not seeing it sooner. Jesus had made a difference in Skeeter’s life. All she wanted to do was share that joy with him. He had been a fool. If he had it all to do again, he would believe. He would express his faith. He would listen. He would learn. He would be changed.
The creature released him suddenly, and backed away. The other did the same. They acted frustrated, even frightened.
Ray had done nothing, said nothing, yet something changed.
“Want what with us?” One of them asked.
“What?” Ray was confused. “I want nothing to do with you.” It took a moment for Ray to realize they weren’t talking to him.
Ray turned and saw what had fixated the creature’s attention. A hole had appeared behind him. At first he thought it was the portal back to the lab, but soon realized how wrong he was. What he saw could not be described. The hole had no edges, but it was nonetheless an opening. Light, bright yet soft, poured into the dark environment that surrounded Ray. In the distance was a figure, magnificent in every way. The figure stood straight and tall, and it glowed brighter than the light that flowed through the opening.
In his heart and mind, Ray knew he was looking at something far greater than he could comprehend. He was looking on Deity. The light seemed to be alive. An urge rose in Ray, a desire to walk through the portal, to run to the figure before him. Peace and safety were across that threshold. Undiminished joy was within reach.
He started forward, no longer concerned about the creatures behind him, no longer fearful of death and agony. What stood before him seemed right and full and complete. Ray found himself weeping. There was no concern for facts, no need to analyze the situation. Ray knew everything intrinsically. There was no doubt in his mind; he knew he had been created for that place.
There was a sound, soft and subtle. The new portal was gone. “No,” Ray pleaded. “No, come back.” He snapped his head around to see the fearful creatures behind him. They were gone too. Ray closed his eyes and this time, all went blank.
“Did you write this? Is it a novel?”
Ray opened his eyes and saw a large, round woman in a bright blue dress with a large, gaudy yellow flower print standing before him. She held a copy of his book Tender Hate in her hand.
Her. It’s her. But how can that be?
“I asked you a question,” the woman said.
Ray looked past her and saw scores of shoppers walking the wide corridor of Wenham. Turning around, he saw the bookstore where had been signing books months before. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a simple question,” the woman snapped. “Did you or did you not write the book?”
Ray looked at the table before him. Two small stacks of his books were there, as was a letter from his publisher. Heavy ink marks had been scratched through the return address. Gazing down the corridor Ray spied a man in a black collarless tee shirt and beige sports coat sitting on a wood and wrought iron bench. He was calmly watching the woman.
“Devlin,” Ray said softly.
“Excuse me?” The woman looked taken aback.
Ray stood. “Yes, I did write the book, but you’re not interested in that. That’s okay. I’m not interested in you.”
“How dare you?”
“Quiet easily. I only wished I had dared the first time.” Ray cut his eyes to Devlin who rose from his seat. “And tell your boss I’m not interested in him either. Good day, ma’am.” Ray started to pick up his books, but decided against it. They represented hundreds of hours of work but that truth no longer held meaning for him. There was something more important on his mind.
Taking the envelope from his publisher, Ray walked from the bookstore to his car.
Epilogue
Ray sat in the car outside the Lincoln Street Community Church. Somewhere inside was his daughter. She was there every Sunday morning and every Wednesday night. Golden light flowed through the windows of the simple building. Singing floated through the air like perfume from a rose garden.
The questions returned to his mind. Had all of it really happened? Had he really crossed the border between this world and a place where fallen angels were kept captive? Was a doorway opened between Tartarus and Heaven? Ray couldn’t be sure. He felt out of place and confused, but he was certain that something special, exceptional, maybe unique in all of history had happened to him. He had questions, questions that would not be answered in this life, but he would continue to search for them—spiritual answers.
There remained the problem of the secret base in New Mexico. The researchers there were playing a dangerous game, one that could destroy them all. What could he do about it? The answer came upon him like a oak leaf falling gently to the ground. He had only one skill in life that could make a difference. He was a writer and words were his tools. Now those words would become his weapons. He doubted anyone would believe him. He was just one man alone against a military juggernaut.
Something warm radiated from his chest and Ray knew he was not alone. He never would be.
Looking down at the envelope that rested on the seat of his car, Ray felt mildly amused. He had been crushed when he first read the news, but now it seemed insignificant, a small bump in the road of life. Things would work out. God hadn’t brought him this far to leave him alone.
Ray opened the door to his car and stepped into the warm night. It was time to do what he had never done: sing songs of praise and bow his head. To do so would be an honor; to do so with his daughter would be a blessing. Afterwards, he would have a long conversation with his wife, a conversation that would begin with the words, “I love you.”
Alton Gansky is the author of over 40 published books. He has penned nearly 30 novels and written several nonfiction books. He has taught hundreds of writers across the nation. A former minister, Gansky often writes from a biblical world view. www.altongansky.com
