James shook his head at Virgil, drunkenly. “Stupppidess theeng I everr heard.”
“Abraxas represents both sides, the perfect balance in one entity. But Sax was evil. What he gave us was bad. You weren’t supposed to drink it! I thought we left them back there anyway. How did you get it?”
“I pickkkedd them bootthhhh up… here’s yours!” James vacillated to the right and tossed the little packet at his counterpart.
Virgil caught the packet and began examining it. It looked like a miniature tea bag, and it was sealed with three small stitches. He quickly tossed the packet on the floor.
“No fucking way am I taking that! This is some serious shit, man. He could be the Devil. Sounds crazy, but think of our journey so far.”
James cocked his head to the left then stared blankly at Virgil, his eyes hollow and his expression confused.
“Also…what he said about your son…is it true, is he in a coma?” Virgil asked.
“Shuttt up!” James bellowed from his bed.
“What the hell are we supposed to do if your son is in a coma!? What’s the point of this trip!?”
“Shut uppppp...” James mumbled, his words fumbling out of his mouth like a loose cigarette.
“You failed the test!” Virgil pointed at the empty vial. “We weren’t supposed to take that stuff. It’s poison, yo. I’m fucking out of here.”
“Shuttt uppp!”
Virgil turned back to find James waving his exposed katana at him.
“Take it, Virgil.” James’ dark eyes were completely empty, as if someone had sewn buttons onto his face. “Now!”
“No way! Come on, dude, be reasonable. Put the fucking sword away. I can talk you through this, I can help! Just chill for me! Please, James, put it down. Come on, man…”
“Why did youuuuuu come wittttth me, Virgilllll? Why did you lieeeeeeee to meeeeee about Armageddonnnnnn!?” James screamed, his frame growing larger.
“I didn’t lie! I really thought it was happening! You saw Austin! I forgot how big the world is…please put the sword down,” Virgil pleaded, a sob catching in his throat. “Please...”
“If I haaavvvee to fuggin taakkke it, soooo do youuu…”
James waved the sword again.
“Dude, look at what you are doing! Don’t you see? He poisoned us. All this stuff is a poison, the alcohol, my box, it’s all a lie! Our journey is…we failed!”
Virgil stood trembling before James, his head slightly bowed. Droplets of sweat formed on his brow as his palms became increasingly clammy.
Unexpectedly, James whipped the katana over his body and crushed it into the leg of a desk.
Schwick!
The katana sliced completely through the leg, toppling the lamp and the motel guide that sat on top of it.
“Fuck, man!”
“Do it,” James said quietly, with bloodshot eyes. “Take it, dammit.”
Virgil raised the packet to his mouth, calculating his next move carefully. “If I take this, will you let me go outside and get my mask?” he asked, his voice wavering. “And will you put the sword away?”
James nodded, his eyes filling with tears.
He lowered the sword as Virgil swallowed the packet.
As soon as he was satisfied Virgil had taken it, he tossed his sword towards the wall.
Schunk!
The blade stabbed into the wall and hung like a dying tree branch.
Virgil quickly shut the door and raced towards the jeep.
***
What had happened? How could it have happened? Why did he take the packet? Virgil had no idea what had just happened.
All he could picture was James’ eyes staring at him apathetically. Like he was the Devil himself, like he was a cold-blooded killer. And then there was the sword, how easily it sliced through the table leg and how James seemed so close to attacking Virgil.
Virgil blinked and saw his left hand on the steering wheel; he felt the jeep growl to attention with the turn of the key.
The poison had already taken effect.
He watched himself peel out from the motel and onto the open road.
Bending to his right, he popped the glove box open and strapped his dream mask to his face.
He was driving on the road to Hell, that he was sure. The mask would protect him, with its flower eyes and good dream karma.
He saw the road crumbling around him like paper bags, their ends on fire and the embers filtering up into the starless night.
He had to keep going, no matter how vexing his delirium.
Just get to Denver, get to Hope.
Virgil pushed harder on the gas pedal and looked to his right. His box of hallucinogens sat open in the seat next to him. A flash at the back of his head and he knew what he had to do.
“Goodbye,” he said, tears streaming down his face. Virgil rolled down the window and tossed the box towards the side of the road.
It was over.
As the road narrowed and the flames of Hell sparked and fizzled around him, Virgil knew that time had officially ended.
There was nothing to fear.
Virgil had encountered many things in his twenty-three years, and knew very well that life was but a dream; a dream that could last up to a century, but a dream nonetheless.
As Virgil watched napalm skies blast before the jeep like an old furnace, he quickly said a prayer. Not to anyone in particular, but more to himself. A prayer that he would make it through this, and if nothing else, to reassure him of his purpose.
He would drive through Hell to get to Hope.
He would do anything to move forward, anything to escape Austin. James. Cody. The girl in the abandoned home. Sax. His dreams. Anyone.
He would drive through Hell to get to Hope.
“Whatchu doin’, boy?” he heard Nathaniel ask, as he fastened the mask tighter.
Virgil didn’t even turn to look; he was done with images, living or dead, real or fake. All fabrications, all surreal.
“Nathaniel,” he gulped. “I’m leaving.”
His dream mask was warm and musky.
It seemed to breathe with Virgil; every time he inhaled the mask seemed to get a little tighter. Denver wasn’t far away, and Hope would be there waiting for him. He knew Nathaniel couldn’t really be there, he knew he was a figment of his imagination.
“Why’d you take the packet?” Nathaniel whispered.
“Because…because I knew no better way to escape...James had a fucking sword! I don’t know why…” Virgil trailed off deliriously, as his thoughts fought to break free from his mind.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that, child,” Nathaniel said, muffled by the horn of an eighteen-wheeler blazed by the swerving jeep. “It was a test.”
“A test? What kind of sadistic test was that?” Virgil shouted at the fleeting image.
“If someone offered yah a knife to stab someone with, would you do it? If someone offered yah a gun to shoot someone with, would you do that? Boy, your sacrament has become your detriment. Now pull this thing over and sleep it off,” Nathaniel warned.
“No, I am going to find Hope. It’s the only way to change my destiny!” Virgil screamed.
“What the hell is Hope gonna do!? This whole trip has been about your trip! Your mind ain’t correct, and now what you gonna do? You gonna roll down the road barrelin’ at a hundred miles per hour wearing a crazy mask ‘til you hit Denver? What then? How you even gonna find Hope? Get off the road, child, do it now.”
“Nathaniel,” Virgil gritted. “You are not real, you are fucking fake, you are a hallucination. Also, this is all your fault, you told us about Sax and...and we trusted you! So just leave me the hell alone.” Virgil wiped the sweat and tears away from the bottom of his chin and gazed back towards the long and winding road. “Get the fuck out of my life.”
“Well, you boys had a genuine chance to figure this thing out and prepare yourselves for whatever came, but ya’ll didn’t, and now the only ones who are truly gonn
a experience Armageddon are gonna be the both of you. Just remember what I told you, Virgil: If you try and take the world by storm, you’ll be swallowed by the sea of your own flood.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Virgil looked to his right, expecting to see him sitting there quietly.
Nothing.
Virgil was completely alone, the road melting towards him as he breathed heavily, his face sticking to the inside of the mask. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the feather, and lightly stroked it with his fingers.
He wished Mika’il were there, someone, anyone.
But all he had now was this feather, his mask, and his quest for Hope.
He drove for at least thirty minutes this way, not knowing where he was going, how he got there, or if he was even driving. Lights blazed by him like comets and every time he blinked, crystallized fractals seemed to lash at him.
The entire world is a hallucination.
Everything had become a transitory image, a prototype for illusion, and all of it had accumulated into a gigantic strain on Virgil’s overtaxed screen of memories.
Sax’s voice came to him.
“So, you decided to take it I see?”
Virgil looked to his right and saw Sax sitting in the passenger seat, his legs kicked up onto the dashboard. “Pretty crazy stuff, huh?”
The paint on Sax’s face filtered off into the open window like an open sack of confetti.
“I know who you really are, and you’ve done enough damage! Fuck you! I’m not afraid…not afraid…and I will get to Denver. Get the fuck out of my head!” Virgil was determined, as he strained to see through his blurred vision.
“The only reason you aren’t afraid is because the effects of the packet haven’t quite hit you yet. Just wait, it should happen any moment now.” Sax blew his nose into his hand and wiped it onto the side of his seat.
“You aren’t real!” Virgil yelled at him, slamming his fist in Sax’s direction. Suddenly he heard a voice.
“Virgy…why would you hit meeee?”
Virgil shook his head, afraid to look. “Please stop…” he sobbed. “Please, I don’t want to see anything that’s not real anymore. I just want to get to Denver. Please, I know you aren’t real.”
“But Virgyyy, I am real...seeeeee.”
Virgil still wouldn’t look.
“That’s not you, Hope, I know it.”
Virgil shook his head feverishly. The mask had become Virgil, and Virgil had become the mask. All the thoughts, all the beings, and all the people had shattered the thought process of his mind, cracking him open and stripping him of his essence.
Flashing lights appeared a couple of miles in front of him.
Red lights, the lights of braking cars.
It flooded Virgil’s memories with Christmas, the cheer and the dreams of yet another fabricated season. Everything came so quickly: age, life, good times, bad times, inebriation, false hopes, and death.
Death!
Virgil knew it was soon, he pressed his foot on the gas with all his might, careening towards the car in front of him.
It was the only way out of this prison cell he called reality. It was the only way out of this body, the only way to finally be free, the only way to be just like the clouds and evaporate into the horizon.
Virgil smashed his jeep into the back of another car and for a brief moment, Virgil understood what Mika’il had said just two days ago:
The keys of Heaven can also open the door to Hell. The key holder opens the door, not the other way around.
Virgil blinked his eyes awake. He was covered in shards of glass.
Chapter 23: Eve
“Eve?” James hardly recognized her. He couldn’t feel anything, could barely speak. His eyes were covered with a thick film of misery.
He sat up and glanced across the room near the television.
James knew she was coming for him.
Eve sat on the floor, her bony knees to her chest. She looked up at James through a mountain of stringy, repulsive hair and let out a small hissing sound. She was hungry.
“Eve, I’m sorry,” James finally managed to say as tears streamed down his face. Suddenly his mind was transported to the night that forever changed him.
The night that destroyed his life.
He had drunk a few beers and was far from wasted when he got a call from Eve wanting him to come pick her and their son up. Eve, his wife of nearly nine years, had taken Zane out to see a movie.
It was a rainy spring evening in Denver, and the streets were covered with a thick layer of oil and soot.
A normal enough night.
After a final beer, James left the bar and headed towards Eve and Zane’s location. The night was cold, like nights in Colorado generally are, and the wind beating his face made it even chillier.
He saw Eve and Zane standing outside the theatre in their jackets.
She smiled as she got into the cabin, unaware, as usual, that he’d been drinking. James had learned long ago how to cover the smell of alcohol, usually with some air freshener and a couple of packs of gum.
He remembered looking her over and smiling.
Eve was beautiful, small and frail, but extremely gorgeous, with metallic blue eyes and tiny dimples. Zane had hopped into the backseat and was excited about finally getting a chance to see the newest DisNike movie, something about a frog turning into a prince, or maybe the other way around.
James could never get it right.
The road was dark and narrow as James took a left turn out of the movie theatre’s parking lot and made the split-second decision to take the shortcut home.
The shortcut, which went by a little lake, was prettier, especially in the twinkling night sky. He’d grown accustomed to taking that way home, and frequented the lake with Zane during the summertime. James’ vision blurred instantly as he approached the lake, and to this day he still couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was fog, maybe it was something else.
All James knew is he never saw the stop sign.
He increased his speed, desperate to get home and continue reading a novel he had recently bought from a bookstore near downtown Denver. The novel, Hiroshima, was a factual account of six people who lived through the bombing of Hiroshima. It was a fascinating novel, especially the first part entitled: A Noiseless Flash.
Ironically James’ crash was exactly that, a noiseless flash.
As he veered off into a large tree, he could hardly understand how he’d done it. And later, after realizing he had clipped the tree and skidded into the water, he still concluded that there was no way he could have caused the accident.
After all, he’d taken this route a million times and there was no conceivable way he could have missed the T intersection.
He never thought to blame the alcohol.
As James regained cognizance, the water seeped into the top of the car, slowly making its way into the cabin. He knew there was no way he could have been driving fast enough to drive the car that far into the lake but here it was, submerged and sinking even deeper.
The motor kept running as James tried desperately to free Eve from her seatbelt.
She fought to get out of the seat, scratching James’ face in the process as he reached over her to unbuckle the seatbelt. She looked at James and screamed, her forehead dripping with fresh blood.
“Dad?” James heard Zane whimper from the back as the vehicle filled with water.
Instinctively, James reached into the back seat to try and free Zane. Zane sat motionless, his face paralyzed as water gushed into the cabin.
Finally, James unbuckled the seat belt and pulled Zane to shore. He could barely remember what happened next, the adrenaline had taken over and become his only fuel source.
After setting Zane near a small clearing, James dove back in the lake to rescue Eve. He remembered that much: he saved Zane first. It took him longer to free her from the seatbelt, especially since she’d quit breathing. James didn’t even remember how he
pulled her to shore, but he did.
He immediately tried CPR on her, but it was too late.
Her skin had lost its color, and her small wrists gave no sign of life. The ambulance arrived, and the days cascaded into one long day from that point on.
Life came at James at a rapid rate, even if he’d managed to get out of it. He still didn’t know how he managed that. He should have gone to jail.
Two weeks later Zane was still in a coma, Eve was dead, her parents wanted James gone, and to make matters worse, they had enough money to make it happen.
So, one day, he grabbed his few belongings and left, promising himself that he would return and rescue Zane.
And that is what this entire “Armageddon” journey was about; the journey was actually for James to rescue his son.
***
Virgil blinked his eyes open…
He was sitting in the back of some sort of transport, his mask off, bandages on his face. His heart slammed against his chest; his breath fought fiercely to escape his lungs.
He closed his eyes and suddenly saw the large bat creature from his dream a few days ago. The image blurred again, swirling into the vortex of his mind. He tried to hold onto what he had seen and what he had heard.
A gun. A rough hand. He remembered that much. The seatbelt was cutting into his skin.
He looked to his left and saw his old roommate Tony sitting next to him.
“Go away...” he whispered.
Tony rolled his head to the left and watched as the streetlights lit the cabin of the vehicle. Virgil tried to squirm, only to realize that he was cuffed.
“Why are you here?” Virgil asked, a few tears sliding into his gaping mouth. He turned and looked at Tony again who was now looking at Virgil with hollow, black eyes.
“I will always be here, Virggy,” Tony said with Hope’s voice.
Virgil screamed until he was hoarse.
***
James eyes were so full of tears that they washed open. The room was hazy and the temperature ice cold. Virgil was gone and all that was left was Eve.
He glanced at the end of the bed and saw her porcelain face staring up at his.
Her eyes melted down her sullen cheekbones and her fingernails ripped into the bed sheet. She was dripping, as if she had been covered with water.
Star-Spangled Apocalypse Page 19
