After Death

by D. B. Douglas

  They were ploys! Unreal tools of a clever, wicked, malignant, vicious, hell-born genius; ELI! They weren’t real!

  He could feel his face go dark as he frowned and glared at them. He shook his head and spoke out loud to himself —

  “Eli and his fucking tricks. Eli and his fucking tricks. Messing with my mind. Trying to confuse me. You must really be scared, Eli.”

  He glared harder — Now he KNEW the truth. The game was over. He would not be deceived.

  “You can disappear whoever you are. It didn’t work. I already know what’s real and nothing can stop me from saving her because if I don’t get the blood to cross over, she’ll be dead too. And since I can’t kill anybody, I guess I’ll have to drink of myself.”

  They slowly began moving again and looked back at him with the requisite confusion and horror.

  Of course they would! So clever, Eli! So clever!

  “As if you didn’t already know that — Minions!” He spat at them.

  Why was he even talking to them? Why was he wasting his time on these fantasies when he needed to act quickly for Jackie’s sake?

  ***

  Parks took one ever-so-small step closer. His voice took on yet a different quality; lower, calmer, so relaxed.

  “Easy, Frank. We’re just here to talk to you…”

  Frank glared at him, then smiled, wild-eyed.

  “You can leave now.” He swung his head towards Fernando and Washington as well. “All of you pawns. Tell Eli, Nice try.”

  He gave them one last sneering half smile and turned away. He began humming that same odd tune as he calmly moved to one side of the cave and pulled a spike from the ground and shook off an impaled hand.

  Washington tensed and gripped his gun in both hands, triceps rippling. He lined up Frank’s head in the center of his sites.

  “Put the spike down, motherfucker. Put it down!”

  Frank paid no attention and tested the sharpness of the stake against a finger.

  Parks hissed at Washington with the sharp edge of command in his voice.

  “Stand down, Washington…!”

  A rumble rose from deep in Washington’s throat and his eyes burned with hatred.

  “This motherfucker should die..!”

  Frank turned and faced the mirrors. He held the point of the sharp spike over his extended bare wrist and stood absolutely motionless.

  Fernando saw that Washington was as beyond listening to Parks as Frank was. As Washington’s knuckle went white on the trigger, Fernando stepped out in front of him and blocked his shot before he’d even realized what he was doing. Why would he care what happened to Frank? He was a psycho — a child-killing psycho… Still… He’d seen something in him… Somewhere inside there was a glimmer of good in a furious battle with the devil…

  He called out to Frank, trying to get his attention while still making sure he kept his body between him and Washington.

  “Listen to me, Frank —” He said, trying to sound calm and friendly. “You’re ill, man. You’re imagining all this — Just come with us… Let us help you…”

  Frank paused and turned slowly back towards him and for a moment he stared intensely at Fernando, his eyes seeming to narrow in recognition. Fernando smiled.

  It was working — Frank wasn’t completely gone!

  And then a cloud of transformation crept over Frank’s face — and Fernando clutched at his crucifix reflexively as it was one of the most disturbing things he’d ever witnessed.

  A twitching ripple literally swept across Frank’s features from left to right — a crease and a facial tremor that at first only twisted the left corner of Frank’s mouth then made its way to his left eye, seeming to change the retina from blue to black. The ripple continued until finally his whole face leered insanely and his lips pulled slowly into an imbalanced grin as he glared darkly from pitch black eyes.

  “I said you can disappear, minions.” He growled. “Your trick didn’t work — Fuck off!”

  ***

  Frank stared at them and waited.

  Why were these ploys still here? Fuck off, duplicitous cretins! FUCK OFF!

  And then, Fernando and the others slowly lost shape and consistency — just as he knew they would. Their forms gradually faded, segueing from transparent figures to smoky wisps and finally to empty air.

  Frank was alone once again to face the monster and do what he knew he must — Save Jackie — His beloved Jackie.

  So clever, Eli. He thought and shook his head. So many clever tricks, Eli — but not clever enough!

  Eli leered back at him from the mirrors and tilted Jackie’s perfect neck backwards pulling her throat flesh taut.

  She looked at Frank with glassy eyes — pleading — her jugular vein pulsing.

  “Help me, Frank. Please help me…”

  Eli readied for the final stroke, knife hand flexing, his sharp fingernails twitching in anticipation. It was at that moment that the last piece of the puzzle became clear to Frank with an acute profoundness — A tingling epiphany —

  Eli had been wrong! — Hate wasn’t the only catalyst to cross over — there was another — One much more powerful —

  LOVE!

  Love would give him the necessary strength to do the unthinkable!

  With this thought came a force that shimmered around him like armor. The knowledge made him instantly powerful in a surging rush! He knew the exhilaration Eli had felt — He had it himself now! He too was no longer bound by human constraints — He too could defy the laws of gravity!

  He looked across at his own lifeless body crumpled before the mirrors.

  The answer was there, right before him the whole time!

  He soared over to his own limp body with breath-taking speed, carrying the spike. He raised one of his own lifeless wrists before Eli had time to even react.

  It must be done NOW! This would be his only chance to save her and he must act quickly!

  He ripped the spike across the wrist flesh and blood began to pour out.

  It was a steady flow — It wasn’t too late… Good… Good!

  He put his face to the fresh wound and drank deeply and marveled that he was no longer repulsed — His phobia was gone! — It had been replaced by the new fervor and righteousness of his actions.

  “Oh, shadows and shades, those that want more,

  Drink quickly, drink deeply, that you may pass through the door.”

  He felt a delightful sensation ripple through him and he knew he was changing, the transformation was happening! He held his arm before his eyes and watched as the foggy outline grew more distinct… The freshly ingested blood worked its way through newly visible veins... Soon tissue hid the veins and his arm grew opaque until it was almost as solid as it had been in life.

  The transformation was almost complete! Almost complete! Eli, your time has come!

  He glanced back at Eli — The arrogant face that had shown the glow of victory only seconds before now looked slack and shocked for the very first time.

  There was no time to waste, Frank thought — Eli’s clever — Now is the time for the righteous to smite the heinous!

  Frank hefted the spike like a spear in his newly solidified hand and flew at Eli without hesitation, face set with unshakeable resolve.

  In the brief instant before impact, Frank saw Eli’s expression change from shock to something Eli had never felt before, something he had no way of understanding; Unadulterated FEAR.

  ***

  Fernando, Washington, and Parks had no time to react as Frank turned and ran away from them at full speed towards the center mirror at the end of the cave. He clutched the wooden spike in one hand and now raised it like a spear.

  ***

  Frank soared at Eli and closed the distance at his new unnatural speed.

  There was no stopping him now — Jackie would be set free at last!

  Eli looked up at him and blanched in horror. He released his grip on her, fleeing backwards in an effort to save h
imself — But Frank was too fast now — too powerful — He was instantly in front of Eli, blocking his escape —

  No chance you get away to wreak more havoc, monster! I empowered you, I will finish you!

  Eli made yet another attempt to flit in another direction but Frank locked onto his throat with an iron hand and slammed the spike into his chest with the other.

  The glory! The satisfaction of the righteous!

  ***

  The group watched as Frank took a long flying leap at the final mirror, screaming a triumphant wail as he went:

  “Diiiiiiie, monsterrrrrrrr!”

  He crashed head-first into his own reflection, jagged shards flying in all directions — and came to an abrupt halt as he impacted the wall behind the mirror — impaled on the pointed spike he had turned towards himself as he leapt.

  ***

  Eli stared back at Frank and twisted his sinewy neck to peer down at the wood protrusion sticking out of his chest. Time seemed to stretch in dream-like sluggishness — Eli was defiant — His face reflecting his belief in his own immortality as he grinned back up at Frank.

  “You didn’t really think… that —”

  A spasm abruptly shook his ethereal body — and he noticed in surprise the smoking stench pouring out from around the wound. He held a long-fingered hand up before his face and examined it. It was growing fainter… disappearing…

  “Impossible..!” He said, aghast. “Impossible!”

  Frank grabbed Eli’s head and held it facing one of the side mirrors so that he looked directly at his own rapidly changing reflection.

  This time he would be forced to watch himself perish — Frank thought grimly. Turn-about is fair play.

  ***

  Parks led the group carefully forward, closer to Frank who lay bleeding to death in a pile of broken shards and staring fixedly at his own reflection in a splinter of mirror lying on the ground nearby.

  ***

  And now Frank watched Eli begin to wriggle and squirm in agony but he felt no compassion, no pity. There was no mercy for a creature such as this.

  The odorous fumes began to pour from Eli’s mouth, his eyes, his ears and Frank held him firm —

  You will not return, you insidious horror! Frank thought, Your time here is finished!

  Eli screamed as if he was being roasted alive, his face rapidly shifting —

  His skin rippled and realigned and he was the Dracula-like vampire from Frank’s early story — and then there was a second shudder — and he changed into Eli as a young man, just as he had been in Burt’s story — Yet another ripple followed and Frank was looking at his own screaming face — and still Frank would not let go —

  Eli and his fucking tricks, Eli and his fucking tricks…

  Eli’s strength was almost gone — he finally reverted back to own form — only now he was deteriorating — His partially transparent figure was aging, wilting… He shrieked and wailed and kicked and clawed but Frank’s grip was solid.

  You are done here! Done, I say!

  The air and light quivered and the candles flared with some supernatural force that seemed to burn everything in the cave but still Frank hung on. And then, with a thunderous clap that shook the entire mountain, Eli’s face sloughed off down to the bone and the cave walls rained loose earth —

  Eli fell apart in Frank’s hands — an ancient form crumbling and disintegrating until all that remained to slip through his fingers and drift lightly to the ground was dust.

  And then it was over —

  Frank stole one last glance at the central mirror, at his own powerful figure that seemed to pulse with radiant energy like an angel.

  He was victorious! Jackie was safe! Eli was no more!

  And then he noticed that Fernando and his cohorts had returned, staring at him, frozen in place — their images dim and ghost-like, their faces slack with shock.

  The minions..? Frank thought — Why are they still here? Their master is finished — Forever.

  ***

  Washington slowly lowered his weapon with a grim countenance. In front of them Frank was twitching, the spike impaled deep in his chest, his blood flowing into dark pools on the ground around him and soaking into the earth.

  He turned one last time to someone unseen. His lips moved but neither Fernando nor Parks were able to hear his words.

  ***

  Frank looked up at Jackie as her teary face loomed over him, her expression, as always, tender and generous.

  “Thank you, Frank.” She said softly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Thank you, my love.”

  Frank smiled back at her, then noticed his own arm — the arm that smote the evil Eli and saved his beloved wife. It was losing reality — returning to the transparency that is the domain of all ghostly shades.

  His own blood had done what it needed to do. The monster had been stopped. He could rest with the knowledge that Jackie was free and that he was the hero of his own horrible story.

  “I love you too.” He whispered as tears fell from her eyes and he saw them pass through his quickly disappearing form.

  A deep contentment warmed him to his core. He was leaving — it was time for him to go.

  But he had fulfilled his promise — His beloved Jackie was safe.

  ***

  Fernando, Parks, and Washington watched Frank die before them, a strange self-satisfied smile frozen clearly on his face, eyes still fixed on the piece of mirror on the ground nearby.

  Washington glared for a long moment in absolute disgust. He leaned in and peered at Frank’s face.

  “Am I seeing this right? Is that sick motherfucker smiling?”

  He spat angrily at the corpse.

  “Bastard got better’n he deserved — Shoulda died afraid and in pain like his victims.”

  There was movement behind them — Washington spat one more time and the forensic team arrived and began doing their job; cordoning off the area, taking flash photographs, marking the position of the body and measuring the distance from this grotesque object to that. One of them pulled Parks aside to confer.

  Fernando glanced one last time around the cave that was Frank’s family legacy.

  The dismembered arms and hands continued to point, the decapitated heads and the skulls entombed in the walls seemed to follow him with their stares — as though waiting expectantly for the secrets of this place to be unraveled.

  But although Parks had been right about many things, the bulk of the secrets would remain unanswered — until the publishing of the manuscript of Franklin Davis — in his novel entitled —

  AFTER DEATH.

  AFTERWORD ONE

  Added by Dr. Lazlo Mangrove, P.H.D., Doctor of Clinical Psychology, Los Angeles Fizbourne Medical Institute and School of Psychiatry.

  The publishers of this book have allowed me, albeit briefly, to add some few small notes to the reader in the hopes of further illustrating the uniqueness of this material. At the time of this printing, my representation is in negotiations with said publisher in the hopes that I may further expound upon this noteworthy case in the prolix detail it deserves in several medical journals and, possibly, a separate volume dedicated solely to the rare insight and complexity of the inner workings of the mind of a serial murderer that this rare document has elucidated. However, for the purposes of this Afterword, I am limited to the mentioning of just a few of the many characteristics of this material that entirely set it apart from any other that I am aware of.

  Firstly, that the entire “novel” was written by a psychotic individual about themselves in the third-person tense. This is quite unusual as in most cases, the tense used is the first-person singular and is in much more typically a diary format. Such effort to observe and write about oneself objectively is beyond unusual and his attention to detail is most startling. The careful examination of his own state of mind, thoughts, and even motivations is unprecedented. Further, that these writings were carefully typed and constructed as opposed to the norm in such
cases; most often a rambling and incoherent free-flow stream of consciousness from the demented mind to the page, written free-hand and in most cases, totally unintelligible and incomprehensible is quite remarkable.

  Secondly, that the author included sections from another character’s point of view is virtually unheard of and quite astounding. Previous writings of psychotics and delusional individuals again are characteristically myopic and egocentric—to attempt to put oneself into the mind of another would be literally outside their “realm of thought”. The fact that the only other point of view attempted is Fernando Puenza further illustrates Mr. Davis’ feelings of true friendship and bonding to an unusual degree with the real Mr. Puenza.

  And lastly, and most remarkably, that the author completed the entire work and left it in his abode for others to find, including the ending, which had not yet transpired is without a doubt, the most singularly incredible part of this case. That the author fabricated several characters, such as Detective Carver Washington, and made many mistakes in police protocol is consistent with the rest of the material, but the fact that he not only questioned the “reality” around him and his own motives towards the end of his work, but that he also designed and carried out, in as much detail as possible, the conclusion to his own story and his own demise, is an incredible feat that I hope to further expound upon in detail at a later time.

  As one last and final note, I have just been shown the Coroner’s report and there is another startling fact to add to this already most noteworthy case. The cause of Mr. Davis’ death was simple to determine, it being clearly from a long honed wooden stake through the center of the heart (the same, the reader will remember, as that which finished the vampire-like villain in Mr. Davis’ earlier attempt at a horror novel). What is most odd, however, is that the Coroner cites the existence of an earlier wound at the exact same location as the entrance of the spike, a wound from many years prior that was allowed to go untreated and which apparently grew festered to the point of gangrene (contrary to the doctor’s remedial visit described in the book). What is even more incredible, however, is that the source of the original wound was pushed by the spike during the suicide of Mr. Davis and imbedded in the tissue of the heart and this object was further discovered to be a long and dirty fingernail.