by Rob Heinze
Does he know about The Mesha and me? She wondered. No, he couldn’t; there’s no way.
She glanced to Sam, who was waiting patiently. He looked anxious and excited, like a child waiting for their parents to take him someplace exciting.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Charley said.
Sam looked up at him.
“If Those of the Light and Dark fight for people, how can they get away with not fighting when The Mesha gives them sacrifices?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. The Mesha says that the clearing is holy and sacred and that Those of the Light have no power in it. She says that people don’t go to it by accident, though. If they did, Those of the Dark would take them. But it doesn’t happen. So The Mesha just brings them to that spot. That’s all.”
“How’d she find it?” Eve asked.
“They led her there,” Sam said matter-of-factly.
The woman must have nerves of steal, Charley thought, imagining what it would be like to follow Those of the Dark through unknown woods. And how had she known they wouldn’t consume her?
There was a noise outside in the hall, and Sam’s head perked up. He listened intently, until the sound of footsteps led to another door. The door opened and closed, and Sam relaxed. He looked at them.
“We should go now, tonight, if we want to make it.”
Charley looked at Eve, awaiting her decision. She didn’t do or say anything for a long time. She thought about The Mesha. She thought about her old life. Finally, she nodded.
“We better get going,” Sam said.
Interlude - Sarah III
I was sleeping by your bed when the clear man, Greg, came in the room. He came this time without a pause or hesitation. He smiled at me and went towards your bed. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“He’s close,” Greg said.
“To what?”
“The ancient place.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“You don’t have to. That’s why I came back.”
I paused for a long time, then decided I would push a bit.
“You were in a coma.”
Greg looked at me and nodded.
“What happened? What do you remember?”
For a long time he said nothing. I decided that he wouldn’t say anything, but he surprised me by talking.
“I don’t remember,” he said, paused, then added: “Not exactly. But I woke up with something hard-wired into my brain that informed me that I had come from Light.”
“What does that mean?”
“Charley will tell you when he wakes up,” Greg said.
“When he wakes up?”
“We are fighting for him,” Greg said. “Very strongly. And for others.”
“When will he wake up?”
“He’s very close. I don’t know much more.”
“I can’t understand this,” I said.
“Me either,” Greg said. “But scale it up and you’ll understand better. It’s a layer of reality below this one.”
“How far up does it scale?” I asked.
Greg shrugged. “I don’t know.”
The nurse came in then to fuss with Charley’s dressings and Greg excused himself. As he passed, he put his hand on my shoulder and the warmth from it was a blessing.
The nurse asked if she could get me anything, I said no, and then I moved towards your
bed. I asked you what you were doing, and what your mind was seeing in your layer below my layer.
What are you seeing, Charley?
Part Four - Ad Lucem
1
The hallways were suspiciously empty. Sam led them down the hallway. He kept glancing at the doors to the rooms, as if expecting them to pop open any second. None did.
“We’ll take the stairs,” he said. “We’ll go up to the roof and then come down in a different stairwell. It’ll lead us to the back of the building.”
Charley and Eve nodded and then followed as he moved down the hallway. The stairwell was nearly dark, lighted only from below. Sam hoped—prayed—that no guards were in the second stairwell. Most probably there wouldn’t be, because not many people knew about that stairwell. He just couldn’t remember if The Mesha had ordered a post there.
The door to the roof was too heavy for Sam to open; Charley had to push it out. Then they stepped out into the cool night. A million stars stood stolidly in the pool of night sky. A light nip was in the wind. They could hear the faint, mysterious whisper of the treetops under the wind’s spell. Sam led them across the dark roof. On their left, across the open space, they saw the muted orange glow of a torch or lantern. Someone was probably up here, patrolling, and Charley felt his heart tighten and clench. If they got caught—
He hadn’t found it too hard to believe that The Mesha would sacrifice them. If they were caught, it might even be worse (though what could be worse than that, Charley didn’t know).
“She sometimes stays up here all night,” Sam whispered, looking back to them. “She’ll talk to other people.”
“Who?” Eve asked, distracted by the light.
“Belinda.”
Charley, who had also been focused on the light across the roof, suddenly stopped dead. He stopped dead directly on the open roof. Had it been daylight, he would have been spotted. As it was, the odds of him being spotted were low. Sam and Eve both noticed that Charley had stopped moving forward, and they stopped and turned to him.
“Charley? What’s wrong?”
“What did you say?” The question was directed to Sam.
“What?”
“A name. You said a name?”
“Belinda?”
“Yes,” Charley said. “Yes. Who’s Belinda?”
He asked it, but he thought that he already knew.
“The Mesha,” Sam said matter-of-factly.
Charley looked at Eve, hoping she’d grasp it.
“What?” She asked.
“Don’t you remember? I know you weren’t with me in New York City, but Those of the Light left me a message…on the roof-top?”
“It said beware of be,” Eve whispered.
Remembrance. She remembered now. Those of the Light had warned them about The Mesha, and they hadn’t realized. But how could they have known?
“We shouldn’t stand here,” Sam said nervously, glancing towards that light; it was moving now. It had to be a guard.
Charley shook his head, mad at himself, and slowly began to move again.
“I should have known,” he whispered.
Eve heard him.
“You couldn’t have known,” she whispered back.
“I knew something wasn’t right about her,” he said. “We should have left right after we met her. We shouldn’t have even come.”
“You would never have known about her. You didn’t know her name. Don’t blame yourself.”
Charley shook his head and said nothing more. Eve remembered the way her body had felt warm and then hot, burning—she remembered the way her muscles had begun to contract in a nearly peristaltic motion, contracting from her torso outwards. How could that woman be so dangerous?
They had finally reached the door to the other stairwell. It looked older and rusted brown. Sam, pausing, looked back at them.
“I hope it’s unlocked.”
Sam tried the door handle. He pulled. It didn’t budge. He pulled again; it didn’t budge.
“It’s locked,” he said heavily.
“Let me try,” Charley said.
Sam backed out of the way, and Charley grabbed hold of the door handle. It was cold and hard. He tugged once, twice, the muscles in his shoulders and back tightening—please, please God let this door open since you didn’t let my car start way back in Queens—and the door ground open with a rusty, grating noise.
Sam looked at Charley, who was smiling, and then he stepped into the stairwell. When they were both inside, Charley followed.
2
&
nbsp; The door slid shut roughly and left them in darkness. This was full darkness unbroken by any light—natural or artificial. Old superstitious fear stirred in them like an instance of painful gas. Charley imagined Those of the Dark in the shadows, waiting to reach out arms of no substance, could feel them brushing his skin…
A light glared suddenly in their midst; it was Sam. He had produced a small lighter and flicked it on. The light was feeble at best, but at least it gave them something. Sam led the way down the tunnel.
The walk down the stairwell seemed too long. It might have taken an hour. When Sam told them they were on the bottom, the relief was almost palpable. Once or twice, Sam had to yelp and put the lighter out. He had to switch hands and light it again, for it had burned his fingers. The stairwell fed to a long passage, and Charley was reminded of the passage they had used to enter the hospital.
A sudden thought came to him: this was where they had taken the dead bodies out. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. A low, sullen wind blew down the tunnel, moaning hollowly through their ears. It was coming from ahead of them, that wind, and growing stronger as they moved down the tunnel.
“The door’s ahead,” Sam whispered. “I don’t think they’ll be any guards. I don’t think anyone knows about this exit.”
“I hope,” Eve said.
The door they reached was shut but not locked. It was as heavy as the other, and it took Charley’s strength to get it opened. They shuffled out into the cool, semi-bright night. They door shut behind them, locking them out of the hospital.
There were no guards—
Or none that they could see.
3
The guard was alone because his friend had forsaken his duty for a piece of ass. Who was he to say anything, though, for ass was a worthy goal and only those who stand true and forsake all else will obtain that which is sought…that being ass. It was true that nothing ever happened: this world was dead and only those who lived in the hospital were alive. And they never left. The main goal of the guards, The Mesha had once said, was to make sure Those of the Dark do not break the pact.
Here was one truth, though: if Those of the Dark came, this guard (whose name was Henry) was fucking gone.
It was still frightening to be alone, though. He didn’t like it at all. Sometimes he brought out a book or a magazine. Occasionally he brought out a porno mag to help keep him company. He was less apt to do that, for fear that The Mesha might catch him. Not that she would care: she would probably do him right there in the woods. She was some sort of sexual misfit, he knew that, but it hadn’t stopped him those few times she’d laid him. She’d laid everyone; he knew that. And there was no kidding about that. Henry wasn’t a fool to think it was only him. True, there were no diseases here and no one seemed to be able to get pregnant, for whatever reasons he didn’t know, but he still wanted a woman that was…well, that was only his. Besides, he usually blew a premy when he was with The Mesha and usually left feeling like a humiliated school-boy.
He thought about nothing as he was on guard that night. Literally nothing. He closed his eyes on the chair and thought of nothing. He just felt the warm breeze. He felt the impassive stare of the stars. He knew that old Joe would be coming back soon, probably glowing from the fabled piece of ass he’d finally won, and he, Henry, would no longer be alone.
When he heard the door open, the door which he was not far away from him, his head perked up and a smile crept onto his face.
That was fast, Joe. At least I’m not the only one with poor ejaculatory control, thanks.
But when the door opened, he saw no light. That was not normal because Joe would have brought a light. In addition, there were voices that he didn’t recognize—more than one, though how many exactly he wasn’t sure.
No one knows about this exit, he thought. The Mesha said only Joe and I know. It’s part of her safety protocol, I guess.
No, that’s not what she said: she said only Joe and I know that we’re guarding it
For a long time, Henry sat there frozen in his chair. He sat there and listened to them talk. He didn’t know what finally got him to move, to hide behind a nearby tree, but he did. His heart thumped nervously in his chest, and he felt queasy.
The trio—and now he was certain it was a trio—passed close by and for a moment he thought they’d sensed him. But they hadn’t. They were leaving the hospital. He recognized only Sam, the boy, his shape much shorter than the other two, one of whom was a female. Henry, heart pounding, unsure of what to do, waited until they had gone further into the woods.
He came out from behind the tree and stood there looking after them. He stood there for maybe two whole minutes. Then he quickly grabbed the lantern he had extinguished (per The Mesha’s orders) and lighted it. He ran into the tunnel and down it, huffing and puffing, his footfalls echoing around the stone enclosure.
The Mesha had to know about this, and she had to know now.
4
The night breeze was a blessed relief after the confines of the tunnel. The stars were bright, but they gave the woods little light. Sam told them that they could walk a good distance through the woods, then bank to the left and hit the highway again. They could even light a torch…but not yet. He thought they’d be spotted too easily.
The woods weren’t so thick that you couldn’t pass through them, but they were thick enough so that their pace was slowed significantly. They had to steer wide around some trees. No one said anything for a long time, still afraid that their voices might carry. Charley and Eve wouldn’t be the first to speak; it was a sort of unspoken agreement. They would wait for Sam to break the silence.
Time passed, but how much they didn’t know.
Finally, Sam spoke:
“We’re far away now,” he said, stopping. “I think we did okay.”
He listened. He cocked his head to the side.
“I don’t hear anyone,” he said. “If we’d been spotted, they would have been following us already.”
“Where do we go now?” Charley asked.
“To the place where Those of the Light and Dark go to do battle.”
The phrase felt mythical to him, like the place where some great hero had made his or her last stand.
“We should stick to the woods a bit longer. Then we’ll branch off to the road, when the hospital’s well out of sight,” Sam said.
“How far do these woods run?”
“Not too far. They’re parallel to the highway. They break up eventually, and feed into small fields and farmland. Then the land turns mountainous.”
“Sam,” Eve whispered.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve been there? To the place?”
“Not inside.”
“What do you mean?”
Sam sighed and started to walk forward.
Sam said: “It’s in this sort of ravine. There’s a path down into the rock. You can’t see the special places from above it—it’s kind of like standing level with tree-tops and being unable to see a lake inside. That’s kind of how it is. But you can get down on the rocks and then you sort of walk between these caverns. I went down into the caverns a bit, but I never went any further. I’ve never seen the bridge, besides in my dreams.”
There was a moment of silence, broken only by their footfalls crunching down on old leaves.
“That place is amazing. It…it’s strong. Powerful. It kind of hums, you know? Like the ocean. When you go to the beach. I went only once, but I can still remember it clearly. Even when you’re far away, the ocean has that light moaning sound—though it’s not quite a moan. It’s peaceful.”
You’re a very wise boy, Sam, Charley thought.
The woods seemed more invasive somehow, as if they were snooping on them.
“Maybe we should get out of the woods soon,” Charley said.
Sam turned back, his face pale and shadowy blue in the moonlight. He looked questioningly at Charley.
“We could try the road; it’s night. No one’s goin
g to see us now.”
“That’s a good idea,” Eve said. “I don’t like these woods anymore.”
They banked to the left and headed towards the dark asphalt somewhere in the distance.
5
The Mesha lay on Peter’s bed. She was only waiting for him to rebound; their first bout had left him deflated and useless, though he had offered to pleasure her with his tongue. She refused and lay naked, waiting a few moments. He’d be back up; they always came back up with her. In the all too brief romp with Peter, her mind had cleared. Everything was okay; she still had her gift; tomorrow Those of the Dark would be appeased like the gods that they were in this no-world.
Things always worked out, didn’t they?
Peter was ready again about ten minutes later, and The Mesha was still moist—the goddamn woman was constantly moist—so they went right to business, he on top in the age-old missionary position.
Whatever flaw had been etched into this woman’s mind during her troubled childhood came out most often during sex. She always remembered Mr. Tartano’s weak, somehow pathetic sobs as he sat huddled in the back of the car.
Stop it, she thought, suddenly angry at herself. STOP IT!
It took Peter a long time this round, and when it was over, they were both exhausted and satisfied. They lay on the bed, sweating, panting, and laughing lightly.
The last thing she needed at that moment was Henry knocking on the door.
“What?” Peter asked; it was his room.
A soft, timid voice spoke. “It’s…ah, is The Mesha in there?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Who is it?”
“Er, ah, it’s Henry. Fa-fa-from the watch. I, ah, I need to talk to you. It’s important, otherwise I wouldn’t disturb you.”
“Come in,” she yelled.
This can’t be good, she thought.
The door opened and Henry, looking down at his feet, shuffled into the room. The Mesha made no effort to dress, nor did Peter. As soon as Henry noticed that, he could not pull his eyes away.
