Empire of Light

by Michael Bible

  Miles, I said. Quit fucking around.

  Charlie turned to me.

  What do we do, I said.

  Molly came up behind me.

  What’s going on, she said.

  Miles, I said. It’s not funny, wake up.

  He wasn’t moving.

  I slapped him, screamed into his ear. His cheeks were cold.

  Molly started crying, yelling for us to do something, anything.

  Stay calm, I said. Call 911.

  She went to the kitchen and started calling. Miles still wasn’t moving.

  Molly was on the phone giving the address.

  Is he breathing, she asked.

  I don’t know, I said.

  I couldn’t think fast enough. Everything was happening in slow motion. It seemed so extreme and unreal, like any minute Miles was going to wake up and start laughing.

  The bathroom, I said. Let’s get him to the shower.

  I tried to pick him up, and when I did he vomited all over the floor. He was going to be OK, I thought.

  Get up, I said to Miles. You’re OK.

  But he didn’t move. He was slumped over on the floor. I rolled him on his back.

  Help me, I said to Charlie. Let’s get him to the shower.

  He needs CPR, Charlie said.

  Miles’ chest was still warm but his face was cold. It was like he was sleeping very peacefully. We were so horrified, screaming his name, and the whole time his face held no fear. He was almost smiling as if he were dreaming of a faraway place. I opened his eyes and they were dead and blue and held no more light. Charlie started pounding on his chest.

  The ambulance is on the way, Molly said. Did he wake up yet?

  Let’s get him into the shower, I said.

  For some reason I thought it would be like in the movies, like all he needed was cold water on his face to bring him back.

  Get him up, I said. Drag him if we have to.

  I picked up his arms, he was so heavy, and Charlie got his legs. We got him up but he was almost impossible to move. Somehow we did it. All the way across the length of the trailer.

  There’s the ambulance, Molly said.

  Thank God, I said.

  It’s going the wrong way, she said.

  She ran out after it down the street in her bra and panties.

  Me and Charlie kept dragging him into the bathroom and I got the water running. Then we tried to lift him up into the shower but we didn’t have the strength.

  Fuck, I said. What do we do now?

  The ambulance will be here any second, Charlie said.

  We kept trying to lift him into the shower but he was too heavy. Charlie fell back exhausted on the toilet. I kept slapping Miles.

  Wake up, I screamed. You’ve got to wake up.

  I slapped him harder than I ever had anyone. Then again and again, each time harder, with both hands.

  Stop it, Charlie said.

  He was crying.

  Stop hitting him, he screamed at me. Please, whatever you do, just stop hitting him.

  Where’s the Goddamn ambulance, I said.

  I ran back to the living room as Molly was coming inside.

  They’re here, she said. Is he OK?

  I don’t know, I said. He won’t wake up.

  Two men got out of the ambulance. They weren’t in a hurry. They got a stretcher from the back and walked inside with it like they were salesmen come to demonstrate a new product. They were calm and focused.

  Where’s the patient, the first one asked.

  The bathroom, I said.

  They walked into the bathroom and Charlie walked out.

  How long has he been like this, the other asked.

  He didn’t wake up this morning, Charlie said.

  They walked into the bathroom and shut the door and began to work on him and we walked outside. I wrapped Molly up in a quilt and we huddled together on the porch.

  He’s going to be OK, I said.

  He’s got to wake up, Charlie said.

  Molly was crying uncontrollably. I was pacing back and forth in the grass, chain smoking. He’s going to be fine, I thought. This will all be funny when it’s over. We’re going to laugh about this. I heard sirens in the distance.

  The front door opened. It was one of the EMTs, the younger one. For the first time I noticed how young he really was. I’ll never forget his dark eyes. His uniform was too big for him. We all looked at him. The whole world seemed balanced on what he was about to say, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t say anything.

  Jesus Christ, Molly said. Is he OK?

  He looked at us from the porch in his clean white uniform. He was not much older than me, but he seemed so ancient and true. I saw past his officialness, his duty, to what lived underneath. He brought his lips together as if to say he had done all he could do. And we knew that he had done everything in his power because his face was honest and kind. We knew too, without fully understanding it, that he was a man of his word and a man of good training and hard work and that he had saved many lives in his short career and he had even been there at the beginning of life, and now, maybe for the first time, he was fulfilling the other requirement of the job, overseeing the end of life too.

  He shook his head.

  He used no words because at that point words did nothing. Said nothing. They only reaffirmed the obvious. To say the words he is dead would’ve been unnecessary. He was dead. There were no more words he could offer that would’ve added anything to the matter, nothing could’ve changed that irreversible fact. The young EMT turned and walked back inside the trailer to finish his duty, the job that he got paid to do that kept him alive and maybe his wife and children alive too. As he faded back into the house we saw more lights, this time blue lights, fill the yard.

  Molly sat on the ground. She knew there was nothing left. No last-ditch effort. No hospital. No Hail Mary surgery. That was it. A shake of the head and Miles was officially gone. The three of us huddled there and hugged and broke down and cursed everything. My mind was already drifting backward trying to comprehend it. Trying to disconnect all the things that had to happen to lead up to this moment. With all my mental energy I wanted to reverse time and go back and rearrange things until Miles was alive again. But he was never coming back. He was cold and dead and there was nothing I could do. There was no way to dream myself out of it.

  I thought of that day me and Miles drove out to the lake together. Before anything had happened. The way he jumped into the water with all his clothes on. He lived like that. I remembered the sun setting magenta and how the lake was colder the deeper down you swam.

  A police car pulled into Charlie’s yard. I felt the ground under me become slippery. Two policemen got out of the car. A fat one and a tall one. They weren’t wearing uniforms, they were wearing suits. They walked up to us and we moved so they could go inside. Charlie began to talk to the tall one. They went inside together. Then Charlie came back out and told us we had to wait outside. Then the fat officer brought Molly her clothes and they put us in the backseat of the patrol car.

  Then the tall one came out and talked to the fat one. Then the EMTs brought the body out and Molly started screaming to let her out. The fat officer came over and let us out of the car. We smoked a cigarette as we watched the ambulance drive away. I pictured the streets it would take through town. Passing the courthouse and the town clock with the peeling green paint to the hospital beside the old discount cigarette emporium. For the first time I thought about Miles’ parents, how they would hear the news. A few more police cars showed up and we huddled as the morning sun burned off the shade. The tall policeman came over to us.

  I’m going to ask you a few questions, he said.

  About what, Molly said.

  About what happened, the tall officer said.

  My friend just died, Molly said. And you want to ask me questions?

  Calm down, he said. No one’s in trouble here. We just want to know what happened. We need to talk to you indi
vidually.

  This is bullshit, Molly said.

  Then the fat officer came outside holding Molly’s bag.

  Who is Mrs. Everhart, the fat officer said. Alia Everhart?

  That’s my mother, Molly said. Why?

  The fat officer walked over to us and put Molly’s bag on the hood of his car. He was wearing rubber gloves.

  Now we got a problem, he said.

  I looked at Molly. Her face was bright red.

  Our friend is fucking dead, she screamed.

  Excuse me, young lady, the fat officer said. Each one of these pills is a felony.

  Molly started screaming and crying and ran at the policeman.

  I grabbed her and held her close to me and told her to be quiet. I could feel the snow and ice again, Bird’s face pink from the wind, the amber glow of the streetlight everywhere and the horn moaning into the distance. The snowball went back into Bird’s hands and back to the ground and I was a molecule of water in the sky again and I was the river and I was the ocean and I was falling from the sky. I felt as if I had stepped out of my past and into the present in the blink of an eye.

  If one of you doesn’t claim this bag, the fat officer said. Then all of you are gonna be in a lot of trouble.

  I spoke but it was not me speaking, it was the younger version of myself. The child of twelve on the side of the road screaming for help.

  It’s mine, I said. The bag. The pills. Everything’s mine.

  Now hang on just a second, the tall officer said. How come they have her mother’s name on the pill bottle.

  I stole them, I said. I live next door.

  Molly began to scream. The fat officer walked over and put me in handcuffs.

  You’re a good kid, he said. You told the truth.

  You can’t do this, Molly said.

  The fat one turned to the tall one.

  Get her out of here, he said.

  Wait, Charlie said. This is my property.

  Him too, the fat one said.

  I love you, I said to Molly. I don’t know if she heard me and so I shouted it again as they dragged me toward the back of the police car. I love you, I screamed. They put me in the car and we drove away. It had only been an hour since I’d woken up in bliss. I could still smell her honeysuckle perfume.

  I didn’t have time to reflect. Soon the tragedy became words. Drug possession, reckless endangerment, negligent homicide. These words were written on documents that were submitted with more documents until my whole life’s story was sitting in the hall of records. They took everything they could from me. They stopped calling me by my name and gave me a number. They gave a time to eat and to shit and to shower and to sleep. I sat in that cell for what felt like weeks but it could’ve been months. Each day was the same. I heard screams of madness each night. Finally they came to my cell and said it was time to see a judge for my sentencing. I rode in a little van and they brought me to the courtroom with its dark wood benches. The judge sat in his high chair and rambled on, asking my lawyer question after question I didn’t understand.

  My client is still a minor and he has plead guilty, my lawyer said. We ask the court for mercy.

  Yes, the judge said. But he caused a death and that’s adult behavior in my book. Only God can grant mercy, councillor. The state of North Carolina hands out punishment.

  Then he asked if there was anything I wanted to say. I hated the dull lights and stiff air. I closed my eyes. I saw the woman in the car when I was twelve again. This time she was alive. I was riding with her to deliver azaleas.

  I’m sorry, I said. I’m so sorry for everything.

  She smiled at me.

  I opened my eyes and could see the judge and the awful light. I turned to the people behind me in the courtroom. Miles’ family was there. And in the back I could see Mrs. Everhart and Charlie. Molly too. I closed my eyes again. There was nothing more to say. I knew this was my sacrifice. I thought of the policeman when I was twelve years old and what he said to me. She’s going to be fine, he said. You did the right thing.

  I finally believed it.

  We rode on through the dwindling darkness. Me and Princess on Forever, our faithful horse. The defeated troops extended their hands toward the rumbling skies. Soon the clouds parted. A profound and sudden light came blazing down and the wind danced through the lonesome valley. We turned the corner. The city vanished behind us in shadow and before us was the rising sun. There were canyons up ahead. We rode on.

  A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michael Bible is originally from North Carolina. His novel Sophia was published by Melville House in 2015.