The Time Eater

by Aaron J. French

  “Master Chiang stressed to me the danger of such books. He said they only existed because evil men who wished to expose secrets of the universe wrote them down. True magicians, he claimed, retained the knowledge inside them and did not need to transcribe it.

  “He claimed to know a man in a nearby village who could safely dispose of such an object. I begged him not go, or at least to take me with him, but he refused. Our village could not be left without both its healers. And though I was still an apprentice, the people were my responsibly.

  “He left that night, packing very few things and wrapping the book in cloth. I wept, for it seems I intuitively understood the danger. He took my hand, kissed the top of my head, told me I was his best pupil. Then he left into the night. I never saw him again. That’s when the dreams started.”

  Dr. Li was quiet a long time. “The dreams…” he said finally, “followed me through college and all the way to the United States. I still have them sometimes. The same one, always the same. Your friend James is there, lying in a bed that’s suspended in outer space. He looks very ill and wicked. He and I are speaking. Suddenly the sky shifts and I see this great, massive shape gliding through the cosmos sucking the planets and stars into itself, consuming them, digesting them. It’s a horrifying vision, one I do not fully understand. When I awake, I am usually covered in sweat. Heart racing. I never want to go back to sleep after.”

  Annabelle refreshed his glass of diet soda and said, “When was the last time you had this dream?”

  He thought. “Last week, I think. There are different variations but your sick friend and the silently moving being are always there.”

  He glanced to the ceiling, pointing, and added slyly, “And now they are both right here.”

  “Aren’t we lucky,” I joked.

  He smiled. “We are, actually. This is an opportunity for karmic resolution. All of us are connected—our spirits are connected. I don’t have to tell you that, do I, Roger? Not with your history and esoteric experiences.”

  It took me a second to realize he too was joking. I hardly recalled a thing about my occult past, so when I picked up the book, turning it over in my hands, I couldn’t even remember how to decipher it.

  “Can we use it?” I asked.

  Dr. Li regarded the book. “Perhaps. Although it is preferable to destroy it.”

  “Destroy it? Why?”

  “Master Chiang said it was an evil book, said that a true Taoist wizard would not need such a petty relic. I have my books. I have my needles. Unless you can think of another purpose for it.”

  “Well, I’m not a Taoist wizard. I’m a New Yorker. But actually, I have thought of another purpose.”

  “You have?”

  I nodded. “Leverage.”

  They both displayed confusion.

  “Allow me to explain. James seemed very proud of the fact that he had this book. He was reluctant to give it up. Who am I kidding? He fought me tooth and nail. I’m not sure if the Time Eater is attached to it, but I am sure James, the man lying up there sick, is attached to it. I believe he wants it back. Maybe we can use that.”

  Annabelle said, “Is that worth the danger of keeping it around?”

  I considered. I’d traveled all the way into the city in search of it. That alone seemed like cause enough to keep it around—at least for me. But perhaps I was being selfish. Just because I thought the book was significant didn’t mean it was. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it.

  “It’s worth the danger,” I said. My answer didn’t seem to surprise them.

  The next hour was spent discussing our plans for the evening. Dr. Li had several more items to prepare before we could go upstairs and begin. Annabelle agreed to help with that. He took some time to explain to us what he would be doing, but even after all that I felt I was in the dark about the procedure. But this I did understand: the doctor had his role to play; I had mine; and Annabelle had hers. And each role was very different.

  * * *

  By sundown, we were ready to begin. I had been pacing the living room for most of the evening, as Dr. Li and Annabelle readied the necessary ingredients. They’d really hit it off and made quite a natural team, I’d noticed. Now we were moving up the staircase, the doctor in the lead carrying his medical bag. I brought up the rear carrying a wooden dinner tray arranged with herbs, tonics, and other paraphernalia.

  The house grew dark as we reached the second floor. Annabelle switched on the hallway light, its glare narrowing my eyes. “I have to use the bathroom before we start,” she said.

  “Me too,” said the doctor.

  “Great, I’ll use the one in my bedroom and you can use the one in the hallway.” She looked at me. “How ’bout you?”

  “I’m fine. I think I’ll just stand here holding this tray.”

  She smiled and then they both made their departures. I waited in the silence, listening for sounds coming from James’s bedroom. I heard nothing, yet I imagined him sitting upright on the bed, eyes glowing in the dark, his head surrounded by stars.

  Stop that, I told myself. If you think of him as a demon, as some adversary, you’ll never get through to him.

  I scoffed at my own words. The sound broke the silence and it was strange but I suddenly felt like I was totally alone in the house, talking to myself.

  When they returned, I did my best to shake these feelings, without much success. You’re insane, this will never work, I thought, realizing I was moments away from a panic attack.

  Dr. Li had placed his hand on the doorknob. “Are we ready?”

  Annabelle nodded. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. The doctor opened the door and we went in.

  It was dark, as I’d imagine it would be. Annabelle tried the light switch but it appeared to malfunction. Thankfully, we had prepared for this, and after setting the tray down before the bed, the doctor lit three large white candles. The tiny flames shattered the room into a broken window of light and dark.

  James was lying in bed, facing the wall. He had the sheet pulled over him. His body was so thin, so emaciated, that for a moment I couldn’t distinguish between him and the wrinkles in the bedding.

  “Jesus, he looks like shit,” I whispered.

  The doctor held a finger to his lips and shook his head at me. Annabelle scooted a small end table over by the bed, placing the tray on it. They lit a few more candles and Annabelle placed them around the room. She set one in the bathroom. The walls, the piles of old clothing, board games and assorted junk, and the heavy drapes overhanging the window—all of it seemed to fade in the flickering candlelight. It began to resemble, at least to my mind, the interior of some old Gothic castle, torches gutting, walls made of interconnected stones. The veil of reality trembled… and I knew we had begun.

  Annabelle opened the folding chair she had brought from downstairs and sat, while Dr. Li assumed position in the single wood chair. It looked like I would have to stand or sit on the floor.

  James began stirring. As soon as he rolled over the roof overhead evaporated, replaced by a canopy of stars. He shook himself to banish the drowsiness and sat up. He looked like hell, face sunken, hair a mess, bags under his eyes. He sat watching us without saying a word.

  The doctor handed me one of the tonics they had prepared in a plastic cup. “He must drink this,” he said.

  I realized he was telling me James might refuse the drink, that it was up to me to work this out. I sighed, took the tonic, stepped to the bed.

  Without turning, James flicked his eyes to me. He watched me intently, a cat eying a ball of yarn. When I extended the plastic cup to him, he suddenly sprang to life, batting at it with both hands. I quickly drew it back.

  “The hell’s your problem?” I said, loudly because the sudden movement had startled me. “You have to drink it, James. No way around it.”

  He scowled. “Why should I?”

  “Because it’ll relax you and we need you to be relaxed while we…” I was going to lay it
all out for him—the procedure Dr. Li had in store, the acupuncture needles, the herb tonics—but without meaning to I glanced at the doctor, who gave me his sharpest look.

  Then something crazy happened, something that wasn’t possible in normal reality and could only happen here at the threshold of the veil. I heard his voice inside my head, clear as a bell.

  Lie to him. Tell him what he wants to hear. Don’t try and reach him, he’s beyond that. The only way is the way of deception.

  I gave a nod, then shook my head as if to dispel Dr. Li’s voice. It took me less than a second to figure out what to tell James.

  “Nurse Norma has been by,” I said.

  His eyes widened. “She has?”

  “Yep. And she dropped off your medicine.”

  At this point, I noticed his facial features undergoing a terrible change. His forehead and cheekbones slanted forward, becoming more angular, and he altogether appeared sharper around the edges. He had become that rodent-thing again. When he spoke, his words came out in a hiss.

  “You mean the morphine, don’t you? But I thought… Why did she not come up to see me?”

  “She was afraid you were mad at her.”

  His mouth fell open. “Me, mad at her? What for?”

  “Because she stopped coming around, stopped giving you your medication.”

  He became sullen. “Actually, I am mad about that.”

  “Well, have no fear. She has left the responsibility to yours truly. But because it’s been a few days since your last dose, she advised me to give you this.”

  I proffered the cup, but he wrinkled his nose at it. “Why would I need that?”

  “Your body is in detox. If we gave you the morphine, there’s a chance it might send you into a panic. If you drink this first it will help calm you. It’s only a mild sedative.”

  I was lying my ass off, but I held the cup out again, playing it cool. I could tell he was having trouble believing me. However, the thought of getting high again was so influential that he was willing to believe anything.

  He took the cup and drank it, cringed, and spit out something that resembled watermelon seeds. “What the hell is this—” he started to say, then instantly fell onto his side, snoring.

  I lifted one of his arms, dropped it, and it landed limply beside him. “Some powerful shit,” I said.

  Dr. Li was pleased. “You did well, Roger. People in his position have trouble remembering they want to live. The allure of death becomes too great, and they must be swayed back to the light with extreme care. Lay him on his back and remove his shirt.”

  I did, flopping James over. His body felt like rolled up carpeting: clumsy, hard to manage. I got him into the position Dr. Li wanted, his head on the pillow, limbs splayed, and shirtless.

  I returned to Annabelle, placing my hand on her shoulder. She placed hers on top of it, smiling at me.

  “How you feeling?” I asked.

  “On edge. I hope everything works out.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

  We watched the doctor work. First he checked James’s tongue, then his pulse, remarking to us that in Chinese medicine there were three different pulses: Chu, Guan, and Chi, positioned in three places along the wrists. He applied strange ointments to James’s chest, fragrant balms he and Annabelle had prepared over the last few hours. One after another, layer after layer, they all were applied, until the intoxicating mixture of scents pervaded the room. My head began to swim with smells.

  Dr. Li signaled for my assistance and together we rolled James onto his stomach. I recoiled from the sight of his back, which was discolored by rashes.

  “Bedsores?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, but shooed me away. I returned to Annabelle. “He doesn’t look well,” she said.

  The doctor opened a wooden box on the tray. Inside was an arrangement of small glass cups. He moved over to the bed with the box and one of the candles. “Now, we will draw the physical toxins out. Body first, mind second.”

  He heated up the inside of each cup with the flame before attaching it, with suction, to James’s back. He used every cup in the box—twelve in all. James’s back was covered with them.

  The doctor returned to his seat, sighing heavily. “Twenty-minute wait now.”

  “The heat draws the toxins into the cups, right?” Annabelle said.

  Dr. Li nodded, closing his eyes to rest. We waited.

  I went to my knees beside Annabelle and placed my head on her lap. She stroked my hair. I love her, I was thinking. I can’t believe I’m actually in love again.

  As we sat there quietly, allowing the cupping method to run its course, the room began to darken around the candlelight. Being absorbed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice—until Annabelle abruptly sucked in a breath.

  I opened my eyes. “What?”

  “It’s coming.”

  I jerked my head up. Both Annabelle and Dr. Li were watching the space of wall opposite the bed. The darkness, which was filling the room like a vast black fog, seemed to be coming from that spot. I was reminded of the smoke machines used at rock concerts.

  The doctor stood. For a moment he was silhouetted against a backdrop of dark and empty space. I felt queasy looking at him, as though I were gazing down from a very tall building.

  “What will we do when the Time Eater comes?” I asked.

  He glanced at me on his way to the bed. “We will deal with it.”

  One by one, he began removing the cups and placing them back in the box. Wherever there had been one, a red ring remained visible on James’s skin. It looked like he’d been branded with a circular metal rod. To my amazement, the rashes on his back had cleared up.

  On cue, I assisted the doctor in flipping James onto his back. His whole complexion had improved and some of the color had returned to his face.

  “Now what?”

  To Annabelle, he said, “Bring the bag of stones.”

  She retrieved a cloth drawstring bag from the tray and ferried it over to the doctor. He opened it, spilling the contents into his palm. A collection of polished stones varying in color and shape gleamed in the candlelight.

  He began placing these at various points on James’s body: crown of his head, forehead, throat, heart, stomach, two at his groin. “The chakras,” he told us briefly.

  Annabelle retrieved his set of acupuncture needles, which he placed on the bed beside James. We returned to the chairs, allowing Dr. Li space to work. He had his large leather book opened to a page full of diagrams indicating various points on the human body. He consulted the book frequently.

  This reminded me of my own special book, the one we had used to summon the Time Eater. I touched its hard cover through the fabric of my jacket pocket, where I had placed it. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it yet. All I knew was that I couldn’t give it up.

  For several minutes, we watched Dr. Li applying his needles. I grew fascinated with his method. My only previous exposure to acupuncture was during my trip to China with Jenny, and that had been marginal. Now I was getting a firsthand experience.

  The needles weren’t jabbed into the flesh, as my provincial mind had imagined. Instead he used insertion tubes, little plastic cylinders that the needles fit into. He would find the correct acupuncture point with his finger, place the tube against his skin with the needle inside, and give it a quick tap. Afterward, he retracted the tube, leaving the freestanding needle in place.

  The process was repeated manifold, as the doctor created a vast web of interconnecting needles all along James’s body. Dr. Li worked with expertise, care, and finesse. I was altogether spellbound by his movements. He seemed lost to his own thoughts, either that or connected to a higher power, a power that guided his hands.

  By the time he finished, Annabelle and I were leaning forward on the edge of our chairs, staring at Dr. Li’s small body as he went up and down James’s torso and limbs, inserting needles. He finally reached the head and face, using great care locati
ng the exact point—under the eyes, one between both eyes, around his neck, the top of his head, carefully avoiding the chakra stones.

  Meanwhile, the darkness coming from the spot in the wall filled the room until nothing but black empty space surrounded us. Toward the end of the procedure, as the stars and planets began to come out, I realized we were no longer alone, that the Time Eater had finally arrived. I could sense it—I believed all of us could—lurking behind everything, like a television left on with no one around. I kept waiting for it to rear its ugly amoebic form, but so far it lurked in the shadows.

  The doctor straightened, moving from the bed, and gazed down at his work. He stroked his long beard, brows knit. He consulted his book once more, then said, “I’ve directed his qi through a specific course, guiding it up toward his mind, and now there is only one point left before the procedure is complete.”

  “What are you waiting for?” I said. “The Time Eater could come at us at any moment.”

  The doctor frowned. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m scared. I’ve never taken the procedure so far before. This point—this final point—is an esoteric one. Few know of it at all. I only know because of my master. Once inserted, I’m not exactly sure what will happen. But the pattern will be finished.”

  “What can you predict?” Annabelle asked.

  “I predict it will cure him, that it will get rid of the illness and the presence of the Time Eater. In my dreams…”

  He became absorbed in his thoughts. In fact, he seemed tortured by worry, as though desperately trying to figure something out. Finally he said, “In my dreams, nothing is resolved. I never get to see the end.”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said.

  He smiled. “You are right. There is only one way.”

  “Where is the secret point?” Annabelle asked.

  Dr. Li took a fresh needle and approached the bed. He leaned over James’s head. “It is right…”

  Suddenly James shot up, sending all the chakra stones flying. Dr. Li was propelled off his feet, stumbling back with a crash. The needle went plummeting from his hand.

  “Li!” Annabelle cried, rushing over.