Endless

by S. B. Niccum

“Mas vajo, they’ll hear you,” she says hoarsely in Spanglish.

  “Who? Who will hear us?” I demand, annoyed.

  “The Hellhounds.”

  “The who?” What kind of ridiculous thing is this?

  “Well they’re not actual hounds, they’re men, but they’re known as Hellhounds here.” Leo explains.

  “Yeah, and who told you this? How do you know?”

  “Because, they tortured me for a while. I had the unfortunate privilege of running into one of their bubbles when I first got here. They revel in their grossness and still exist to torture the spirits who come here.”

  “I’ve never seen one. I’ve never encountered any such creature. I’ve seen the bubbles, and what they contain, but no Hellhounds. What makes you think they’re around?”

  “They’re all around you, Alex. You’re surrounded by them!”

  I drop my own bubble and take a look around. There are other bubbles in the vicinity, but they all contain their own miserable inhabitants. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “No? Look closer,” Leo suggests.

  “For Heaven’s sake, Leo, don’t tell him to look in those! They’re terrible!”

  I ignore her, of course, and focus on one of them. Right away, my stomach turns, or rather, the memory of it turning makes me sick. She was right, they’re terrible, and that’s putting it mildly.

  “You see? She’s too bright to be here, we’ll get noticed soon enough, and if we’re loud to boot…” Leo explains.

  “Go then,” I tell them dismally.

  “No.” Leo says firmly. “Not without you.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “Are you dense, don’t you see where you are? It’s my fault you’re here, and I’m not leaving you behind.”

  I shake my head and look at his wife. She’s beautiful, looks so much like Tess, but darker. “You two go, save yourselves. There’s nothing on the other side that interests me.”

  “But Tess! She’s there!” Irene implores, and hearing this feels like a knife just got plunged into my chest and is being twisted and turned in all directions.

  “Good for her,” I say sourly.

  Leo looks back at me with shock, like he simply can’t believe his ears.

  “She’s doing all she can to come back for you,” Irene pleads.

  “That’s a laugh, because the last time I saw her, she told me to stay away from her. To stay here, to not move.” I can tell that they are both puzzled by this, and are about to say something, when there’s a commotion somewhere behind me.

  “The Hellhounds! Quick! We have to get out! Come Alex, please, come!” Irene begs. But I shove Leo back into her and tell him to take her and leave. They do. In a flash, they’re gone. And my real nightmare begins.

  “Thanks, but where do you think you’re going?” Drymus asks, slightly blushing under that marble white skin of his.

  “Where? To get Alex of course. I’m Open now, so I can go, right?”

  “Yes, technically, but do you see a way out?”

  “What?”

  “Do you see a way out for him? Do you see how or what to say? Do you hear him calling you, asking you to get him out?”

  “N—no,” I stammer. “But, I thought—”

  Drymus just stares at me with that stone face of his, eyebrows arched, looking high and mighty, and annoying me to no end. But I just Opened, and I do feel a reserve of patience, so I take a deep mental breath. “You said that once I Opened, I’d be ready to go get him!”

  “And you are, but unfortunately, he isn’t.”

  “So what was the point in Opening fast? Why did I even bother?” I whine like a petulant child.

  “I thought you wanted to be ready! So that when he is ready to get out, you can just swoop in and get him.”

  “He is ready Drymus. I’ve been there, he’s torturing himself unnecessarily, and he wants to get out, trust me.”

  “Not any more,” he declares like an all-knowing white wizard. “His bubble has gone dark.”

  “What?” I ask and exclaim all in one. “How do you know? What does that mean?”

  “I know because of the Link, and it can mean a number of things. But I have not been authorized to know what has happened specifically.”

  “Am I authorized to know?”

  “If you don’t already know, then you are not.”

  I bite my lip and try to control my temper. I mean, I just had one of the most amazing experiences ever! I spoke with the First One! I promised Him that I would do anything He asked me to do, that I would help anyone. But…I want to help Alex first! He’s in there thinking I deserted him!

  “What did you see when you were Opening? You saw something, didn’t you? You saw what you needed to do.”

  “Yes, but…I can do that after I get Alex out.”

  “Look, Tess,” Drymus says as he escorts me out of the room. Once we are out of the building, he takes one look around and then hunches slightly forward so I can hear him better. “Why don’t you go meet with some of your family and see how they’re doing. Then go to the Angelic department and get signed up; and do what you were asked to do in your vision while you Opened. Before you know it, Alex will be ready and you’ll be able to just jump in and get him!” I stare back at him, defiant and angry, I feel like I’ve been tricked somehow.

  “Right then.” He nods, knowing that he has not succeeded in changing my mind. “Don’t get in trouble. I’ll be around,” he says with a disapproving shake of his head, then flaps his wings a few times and takes off. Slowly at first, then fast as a bullet. Just as he leaves, I hear him in my head—no, not hear him—I see a picture in my head. It’s the image of Alex, squatting inside a dark bubble with nothing but swirling dark smoke inside.

  Chapter 11

  “Aunt Tess! Aunt Tess!” I look up and see Robyn, of all people. She flings herself toward me with Katie, Jase, Valerie, and Dane in tow. Basically Alex’s entire family! Valerie and Dane were Alex’s parents in mortality, Katie was his little sister, and Jase later became her husband. Alex and I had custody of Robyn after Katie and Jase passed, so to me she’s like a daughter. It’s weird seeing everyone like this—all young, about the same age, mid-twenties or so—we’re all equals now. No matter what we were to each other in mortality, we are all the same here.

  “I was hoping to see you and Uncle Alex when I crossed over, but they told me that you two were indisposed at the moment.”

  “You could say that,” I tell her while I hug her, and think of that last disturbing image of Alex that Drymus shared with me. It must have been significant or important somehow, or he wouldn’t have given it to me. I wonder what it means though?

  “You’re Open! How did you manage it so quickly?” Katie says approvingly. Apparently, in my absence she and Jase had Opened as well. Dane and Valerie had not, but there was something about them that told me that they soon would. There was only one thing holding them back, one regret, or rather, once source of guilt, and it pained me to admit that it was Alex.

  “I was told that there was a way to Open fast, so I did it. But…it seems it’s not enough.”

  “What do you mean? You look Open enough to me.” Dane noted rationally.

  “I am Open, but I was just told that I can’t go get Alex.”

  “What’s this business of not getting Alex?” Russell, Alex’s grandfather, strides into the group, with his little wife Nancy in tow. She too is Open and looks like a nice, patient woman, the traditional matronly type who could whip up a good southern Gumbo and bake you a pie in under an hour. She reminds me of my aunt Amor, in that sense. Thinking of her, and the rest of my family, makes me groan inwardly. If Alex were here, I would have all my loved ones together in one place. Everyone is finally together, all but the most important one to me. Even in this new state of increased peace, I feel a pang of sadness that seems endless. The image of Alex hunched there in the empty darkness haunts me now, and it will haunt me until I can get him out.
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br />   “Dad! You said you’d be Open by now!” Valerie protests, looking at Russell.

  “So did you,” he counters.

  “What’s holding you back this time?”

  “What’s holding you back?”

  “It’s your bickering!” Nancy whines. “Why can’t you too get together with your Spirit Guides and—”

  “That stinks of therapy,” Russell growls defensively, and Valerie concurs heartily.

  “Oh you two are a pair!” Nancy throws her hands up in the air. “Not to mention that you’re married to a psychiatrist, dear,” she turns to her daughter. “You hurt his feelings when you say things like that.”

  “No I don’t,” Valerie affirms. “He’s used to it.”

  Dane shrugs and nods unperturbed, and Nancy eyes him fixedly, trying to determine if he was truly okay with this treatment. Upon finding no apparent evidence of hurt feelings in him, she relaxes and assumes a less aggressive stance.

  “Dane has known for a number of years now that I have issues with the couch,” Valerie says as she tenderly ensconces herself into her husband’s arms. As she does this, I’m struck with the fact that she looks different. It’s as if Valerie has shed something since she’s crossed over. It’s hard to say exactly what, but something is missing and something else has been gained.

  I sigh, shake my head and change the subject. “So Robyn! I’m so glad that—that—” I’m lost for words. Last time I remember seeing her, I was trying hard to not haunt her.

  “It all worked out in the end,” she says brightly, saving me the trouble of dredging up the past. “Duncan, my son, he is here too. He’s with his Spirit Guide though, but you’ll get to meet him later.”

  “Yes, but in the mean time, we need to figure out how we’re going to bust Alex out,” Russell says in his take charge, Admiral voice.

  “I was told to work as an angel for a while and then…”

  “If you were told that, you should do it,” Nancy suggests wisely.

  “Speaking of angelic duties,” Russell looks down at a pendant that is hanging from a long, hair-thin chain. It looks like an odd compass; it has no needle, just a glowing, pearly ball that floats in the middle like a little planet orbiting a miniscule galaxy. Russell sees something in it, because he announces that he has been assigned to Earth to watch over a boy, and with a shrug, he zooms out of sight.

  I’m shown to the Angelic department, where I can sign-up and get one of those pendants. This mansion looks like a Hindu monastery, and I half expect to see red-clad monks walking around or practicing some form of martial arts, but I don’t. Inside, the spirits are from all different nationalities and they all appear to be doing the same thing I am—signing up for angelic duties.

  “Name,” a tired sounding angel asks. At least she’s Asian, but she’s wearing a white kimono.

  “Tess. Tess DeLeon,” I say to the lady, who is busy clanking on a keyboard.

  “I don’t need your last name,” she drones without looking up from her speed typing. I venture a look around, while she types away on a sleek, white, laptop computer. Some spirits are clustered around a big screen that reminds me of the Probe. I shiver involuntarily and look away, not wanting to ever be near that device again. “It’s not a Probe,” she guesses, still not looking up from her unyielding inputting. “It’s just a T.V. that plays updates from Earth.”

  “Really? What’s going on?”

  “See for yourself,” she lifts one hand and points a tiny finger toward the screen.

  The scenes are not much different from some of the things I remember seeing on the news while I was alive—wars, fires, and explosions—the only difference is, that while I lived, all those things happened far away from me. These images, however, were from all the major U.S. cities and Europe!

  “Here you go,” the woman says loudly and dangles from her fist the same type of pendant I saw Russell wearing. She looks rather impatient as she gives the pendant a little shake. “Come on, take it.”

  “Oh, thanks. How long has this been going on?” I ask, about the war updates on the screen.

  “A few years now. There’s a new world government that is really oppressive.”

  “A world government?”

  “Yes. It’s called ROWE,” she says as she quickly taps her fingers on the keyboard a few more times. “All set,” she taps one final key and then looks up with a smile. “Next!” she calls, and I move away, draping the chain around my neck. The second the pendant hangs safely from my collar, it starts to glow, just like Russell’s did. I pick it up and squint, trying to focus on the tiny writing on the floating pearl. “Samantha,” it says, and below her name, an address—my old address—where Alex and I used to live when we were married. It was a lovely little bungalow style home downtown; it had been close to work, school, and later, my trendy little shop. But after Alex passed, I never set foot in it again. Dane and Valerie moved Robyn and me in with them. To the best of my knowledge, all our personal things were put in the attic for storage and the house was used as a rental. I had it willed it to Robyn, but I never knew what she did with it. Now, I was going back there, to watch over someone named Samantha.

  Passing to the mortal realm legally, as a full-fledged angel, is like passing through customs. I have to say my name, show my pendant, my instructions, and sign out. Then, and only then, an elevator type door opens up, and I can step through to the other side. Fortunately, I don’t have far to go because the moment I set foot in the mortal realm I’m standing right in front of my old house. It looks battered and old, haunted by the elements. With sadness, I glide toward it and see nothing but piled up rubbish, and the decomposing dregs of years of neglect right where my flowerbeds used to be. The front porch’s paint is practically all peeled off and the wood underneath is rotting. The roof looks like a colander and the whole place looks more like a shelter for squatters than a home. My whole neighborhood, in fact, that once was so trendy and beautiful, is now reduced to nothing but a ghost town. What ever happened here?

  It’s nighttime, and the light that emanates from my person is the only light that there is. All the streetlights are out—broken in half—as if Godzilla had been set loose and had crushed whatever was in its path to pieces. Power lines, homes, and old cars, all seem to have been destroyed by some attack, leaving only a few things intact, like my old house. Besides my light, the only other source of light is a faint distant light that shines over a tiny little spot, like a checkpoint or something. My eyesight is perfect now, and I can tell that there is one uniformed person pacing in the spot of light, as if he were on guard.

  Stepping through the closed front door, I light my old entryway with the glow that I emanate. There’s furniture inside, dusty, broken, ruined by time and the leaky roof. The furniture looks familiar; they are the pieces that Alex and I bought when we first moved in here. It’s ironic to see them this decayed, like our relationship. How I wish I could be trying to fix that right now, instead of here, helping a perfect stranger.

  “Hello? Is there anyone there?” a mortal girl calls. A creaky floorboard startles me—me—the ghost! I laugh inwardly and go toward the sound. The girl looks to be about sixteen or so. She’s pretty dirty, her clothes are threadbare, and her face has dirt smudges all over. She has scraggly long blond hair and a haunted look to her light blue eyes.

  “Hello?” she asks again, tremulously. “Who’s there?” Her eyes are wide as she scans the darkness. She’s barely breathing she’s so scared, so I too freeze in my spot and watch her for a while. Can she hear me? Does she have a special gift like I did?

  “No, not again, not again!” She presses her hands against her temples, as if trying to squeeze a headache away. “Please leave me alone, go away, go away, go away.”

  “Can you hear me?” I whisper.

  She doesn’t acknowledge my question; instead she covers her face with her hands and tries to stifle a scream. “Okay, relax,” she tells herself. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, they can
’t hurt you, relax, relax,” she keeps murmuring to herself.

  When nothing happens after a few minutes, she relaxes a bit, but still casts suspicious looks around as she goes to the kitchen and looks through the cupboards. What could she possibly hope to find here after all these years? She shivers and tries to warm her torso with her arms. I see a puff of fog come out of her mouth as she breathes out, so it must be really cold here. She looks around for something, probably something to warm herself, but there’s nothing—nothing to eat in the cupboards, nothing to wrap herself with, and nothing to light the few logs that sit cold inside the cobwebby fireplace. She gazes at those logs longingly and scans the room once more, letting out a long, tired, sigh. Then she shivers again and rubs her arms with her hands.

  Something on the mantle of the hearth catches her eye and she reaches for it. It’s a box of matches. She grabs it, and seems to deliberate something before she kneels down and starts a small fire.

  I move closer to her, wanting to take a closer look, because something about her seems familiar, but the moment I get closer, she freezes instantly, sensing my presence perhaps, or maybe even seeing me. The sound of the front door creaking open makes us both jump and she dashes behind the sofa for protection.

  “Sam? Are you here?” a tremulous voice calls from a crack in the door. At the sound of his voice, she relaxes immediately.

  “Pete, you freaked me out! What happened to our secret knock?”

  “Oh, that’s right!” he says laughing slightly. “I forgot.”

  Samantha hits him in the arm, and he rubs the spot absentmindedly as he looks around the room, taking in all the details of the place, with a look of worry etched in his face. “You shouldn’t have made a fire,” he states, but goes to warm himself by it anyway.

  “I was freezing, and I found this!” She shows him the small box of matches like a prized treasure. “I couldn’t resist. Who knows what else is here?” She takes another sidelong glance at the place as if it held hidden treasures. “Besides, it is my house,” she says proudly. Like an apparition, another ghostly figure passes suddenly through the front door of the house. As if he were part of a swat team invading a suspect’s house, Russell points a sword in front of him and takes a few swipes in my direction. When he realizes it’s me, he brightens up, and is about to boom his customary lively welcome when I shush him and I grab him by the elbow, lifting him up, straight up, through the second story and onto the attic floor.