Hold the Light

by Ryan Sherwood

  "No."

  Randy stopped pulling mid-stroke. The soul string was released and snapped back down my throat like a released tape measure, tumbling clumsily back into my torso like it fell down twenty flights of stairs. The pitiful sorrow on his face flashed into an eruption of rage as every wrinkle on his diaphanous appearance of flesh ran together. He strained, no raged, to fight the gift, struggling to keep away from my face. He pushed with all the loathing he gathered over sixty years with the gift and balled it into one rush of defiance.

  The convict was motionless in the distance with his arms crossed, glaring with crimson eyes that were not his own.

  The Death-Randy rose slowly from his crouching position with a hulking presence that matched that of the convict. Randy glared at him with reprisal. Ethereal and frail, Randy belted out a roar that steadily grew louder until it was a high decibel yell. The shriek rocked the area as bystanders looked on yet saw only me, talking to the sky and a limp body next to me. When the howl ended the Death - Randy disappeared back into his corporeal body and jerked back to life.

  "We do not have much time," Randy muttered, shaking off the disorientation from his reanimation.

  The convict was still in a trance. The scarlet glow in his eyes grew more brilliant, probably in rage, radiating like a beacon on the dark sea of his face. The convict shook his head as the demon moved his legs for him, awkwardly walking towards us. The feeble steps quickly lumbered into a sprint. The convict raced along, apparently trapped in his own body, reaching out like a zombie for Randy. The convict wrapped his right hand around Randy's neck and lifted him into the air. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

  "No longer, puppet," the convict spoke with a massive, resonating and hissing voice not his own.

  "Fuck you," Randy choked out.

  That's when I saw his eyes change. Change into something I prayed I'd never see again. Once Randy looked into those red eyes of the demon, borrowed from the convict, his mind caved in to dread. I knew he could see his worst failures and all he ever feared in those eyes. I knew that look too well.

  From the distance I swore I heard an infant cry. I thought it was a trick of the brain, but I saw Randy follow the same sound with his eyes. We both looked about but I saw nothing. Randy, however, saw his niece bathed in a blue fire.

  He again, bore terrible witness to the haunting vapors of the life he took from her. Blue waves fluttered about, haunting his every cell, and stole what hope he had left to survive. I could see it leave his eyes. Randy made a decision right then and there that he was no better than what he had done. He was lost right then and there.

  The convict raised Randy higher into the air and tightened his grip on his clothes. He hung from the convict's arm like a prize catch and just as limp. With a strain of his colossal arm, the convict heaved Randy, head first into the concrete with such force, that it felt to rupture my skull, let alone Randy's. A scarlet spray of his blood and bone scattered into the air and over the street, as the convict grinded his face into the cement. The red eyes glared down, satisfied with the carnage and revenge.

  It was quick, painful, and over before I finished blinking. The impact of his face and the loud snapping of bone told me his brow had shattered. My eyes snapped open to find Randy's dull pair staring at me, his life-blood quickly billowing out towards me. His nose was a flattened, a red pulp of cartilage that strung webs of blood across his crushed white teeth. Randy blinked and tried to talk.

  I gazed at him and sobbed my life out as the convict's shadow spread over us. I yelped weakly. Randy's body shuddered as he slid his face over towards me, his mangled features resembling the convict's. His blood flowed out and touched my face almost welling up high enough to seep into my eye.

  "This ...only answer," he murmured, chewing on blood, "Your destiny..."

  Painfully, and by all rights impossibly, he shifted and pushed up, his body creaking and moaning as he covered my nostrils with a shaky hand. He put his mouth over mine and breathed into me. Giving me life and death.

  Chapter 44

  I remember the chill as the gift entered. It was the coldest sensation a man could ever feel. Worse than betrayal, I thought. Icicles should have broke out all over my body, but all I got were goosebumps. This icy blight cursed through my veins, tingling my innards, prying up a distance between my skin and muscle. The frozen shock made its way to my feet and bounced back, freezing my body and heading into my brain.

  My limbs were numb, but I could see them jitter and smack Randy's limp body as well as the street. My spasms continued until the convict barreled down on my frail frame, lifted me again by my tattered shirt, and whisked me away. He ran with me for an eternity until I flattened against a wall. The impact plastered my lungs against the front of my ribcage, ramming the air out of me. My shoulders and the back of my head cracked against brick, chipping chunks of the wall to the ground.

  Panicked voices crept from the emerging crowd as I was pressed helplessly flat against the wall. I wondered if I was still dying or if Randy had healed me. My eyelids fluttered and my fatigue retreated. I looked around wildly as the convict huffed into my face.

  My dangling feet itched, no begged to run. They screamed for any ground to sprint across and follow far, far from here. But there was no such surface. Just air. Just goddamned air. Nothing to stand on, no retreat this time, no fucking chance...no fucking Randy...no fucking anything!

  My brain instantly leapt to the only other reaction I had beyond flight.

  "What do you want now, you sonvabitch?" I barked into his face, blood and spittle sailing into his eyes.

  He responded with a slow blink then cracked his bloated earworm lips.

  "Death," it snarled at me in a voice that boomed inside my ears and soul.

  The convict switched his grip from my shirt to Randy's coat, still wrapped around my neck. He tightened the sleeves and made a noose out of it. His large rotting arm was wedged underneath my armpit, supporting my weight as I choked. I was hanged, tilted off to the side, trying to reach my hands under the makeshift noose. I choked and coughed. His dead breath stung my nose. I struggled against him, mustering up my weak and well atrophied fighting muscles and couldn't break his grasp. I wiggled my hand up to one of his and grabbed his finger like a baby testing his grip.

  With all my might I heaved it back. It barely moved. It was like trying to break stone. A surge of strength bubbled within me and flooded my legs. If I couldn't run, I'd kick.

  It didn't faze him. The convict watched me hang with disappointment. He let out a grunt and shook the noose then dropped me to the ground. I landed on my hands and knees, gasping for air. I sucked it in with long greedy gulps. Caressing my neck, coughing and wheezing, I glared up at him. Rage filled my arms and fists, but quickly drained into my legs. I gnashed my teeth and rose to run.

  Before I ever really found my feet he readjusted his grip and hoisted me back up to the gallows. I crammed my fingers below the noose. My neck swelled as I hacked and gagged helplessly. The convict smiled and roared laughter. You know you're having a great day when you can die twice.

  Disjointed yet honestly, I wondered where the hell the police were. Serve and protect, my ass!

  But what good would they do? How do you stop a dead man anyway? They wouldn't know. I didn't know. Nothing had stopped him before. Not even the angry mob that dragged him through the streets. Wait, how the hell do I know that?

  The convict grumbled and let drop me, breaking my concentration and God knows what else. I fell to the ground again and hard, coughing and spitting up blood, trying to recapture my breath.

  Strange energy welled within me again. It tried like hell to channel it to my feet but it flooded my hands and curled them into fists. I looked up at the convict, ready to swing away, but it was halted. It wasn't him anymore. There was a blush to his cheeks, hell there looked to be flesh covering his cheeks, and a noticeable change in his demeanor. His rampant rage had turned calmed and collected. The red tint to
his eyes grew deeper. A blood-like liquid flooded over and enveloped his eyes. He cupped my chin in his palm and pulled me right up to his smiling cracked teeth. With this close view though he still smelled and looked like the convict.

  "Go fuck yourself," I said, drooling blood.

  "Now you do not want to get off on the wrong foot with me, do you puppet?" the convict asked in a voice not his own. It was raspy and high pitched; ancient and condescending. "You have a chance at redemption now."

  "What?" I was all I managed to utter while engrossed in the curling flames of the convict's new eyes. It was sickly tantalizing. He drew me in closer and a strange fever blanketed my mind. The closer I came to him, the sicker I felt. The cold presence inside me released a shiver that drifted below my skin, pulsing frigidity through my flesh, repudiating my rising body heat.

  But the convict responded and pulled me even closer. My body leapt from cold and strong to hot and weak as the two sensations fought one another in my mind and chest. I wanted the warmth but once I felt it, nausea was hot on its heels. I yearned to expel the cold within but couldn't; I need the strength it gave.

  "Will you take it? Or will you die? No one is around to save you this time." The demon's voice boomed from the convict.

  I recoiled and his smile grew larger. Dying wasn't an option. I had to believe. Randy died to keep the gift away from the convict. I am the only one left to carry the burden. My burden, my destiny; just like Randy said. It had to stay out of hands that could use the power to kill anyone or even everyone. Fear soaked my clammy skin as I realized my choice. Die or be

  Death. But it was still a choice. My choice.

  A smirk crossed my lips as a realization hit. The demon couldn't get around free will. It was my choice to keep or lose the gift and that gave way to a fundamental flaw, I prayed, that I could expose. My hopes rose. I closed my eyes and gasped for air.

  "I will take it."

  And to my everlasting shame, it was kept.

  All sound stopped. A hot and heavy mist of breath slammed into my face.

  "It's all yours, puppet. Learn from his mistakes," the demon said, turning his burning gaze towards Randy, then jerked it back. "But by the by, do try to enjoy it, it'll be around for a long, long time."

  I was dropped, quite gently to the ground as the demon restored possession of the convict's body back to the owner. The hulk stood before me lost in defeat. He sulked, grasping to figure out with his rotted brain as to why the demon had stopped him and let me, this puny coward, have the gift. The prize that had been his purpose for so long had eluded him again. I could see his yearning for the gift and his wife in his cold dead eyes.

  Disgust and revenge engrossed me. I've had to run for my life for weeks, watch my best friend die, and get killed myself because of his damned convict and...and he wanted to just stand before me and sulk like a child that knew he did something wrong?

  "Hell, no!" I said responding to my own question, eyeing a large piece of glass nearby, "you'll pay for this."

  He looked genuinely surprised that I wouldn't just let the gift go. He reached down for me again when I secured the piece of glass. I held it tightly, letting the jagged edges tear into my hand. I rolled away from his grasp, landed between his legs, and stabbed the glass blindly upwards. I jabbed with all my strength until the shard wouldn't go any further. I let go and rolled away as he bellowed at the top of his lungs. I opened my eyes and saw the end of the shard sticking out from between his legs. He wailed louder and he fell to his knees. I scurried away to Randy's body.

  He lay sprawled out near my battered car in a puddle of his own blood. Glass was strewn all around and I knelt in it as I landed at his side. I lifted his head and patted his cheek. I hoped he still lived, but once I saw his mangled face and limp body, my hope vanished. Blood crusted around his mouth and I couldn't bring myself to even look at him. I shut my eyes, trying not to cry. I fell onto my backside and hugged my waist, rocking back and forth. My heart pounded in my chest, smashing against my sternum and I found myself sweating for the last time. My body chemistry, all my internal clockwork felt rewired and, strangely I felt new in a very old way. My fingers, on what felt like on their own volition, slipped into the hole cut in my shirt and I felt my skin. Teary eyed, I curiously examined my shirt and saw my mid section stained with blood. I looked closer and felt around for the gash the convict inflicted but found only a mere slit. The stab wound had shrunk. I looked back at Randy.

  "What do I do now?" I blurted at his head as it limply swiveled as I gently moved it into my lap.

  "What now!" The salt of my tears seeped into my mouth I screamed up to the heavens.

  They answered with tears of their own. The rain poured down and washed away the dried blood from my face. It washed away so much more than I couldn't have known.

  My hand stroked Randy's clumpy, blood matted hair until I ran across the fissures in his skull. Shuddering, I gently rested his head back on the concrete.

  "You better have him up there," I threatened the sky and turned back to the convict.

  The convict roared like a lion yanking at his crotch, desperately trying to yank out much, much more than a thorn in his paw.

  Chapter 45

  The crowd drew closer. Tiny sharp raindrops pinched at my face. I barely heard the baleful whine of police sirens in the distance, probably writing it off as screams, as I watched the convict rise. He awkwardly and gingerly pulled out the glass shard in his groin and glared at me. I met his hateful gaze all the while fighting to keep my feet planted. He released a raged roar, then a second and started towards me. It wasn't a human sound in the slightest. Barely even animal. The flashing lights of all kinds of cars stopped his approach though and he jogged away bow-legged as fast as he could manage.

  A few fools from the crowd chased after him, but he brushed them off like flies. My knees quickly realized how weak and fragile they were once the adrenaline stopped its flow, as I stumbled forward, still futilely trying to follow my rage and make chase. I tumbled to the wet cement, unable to pursue as my energy drained and the crowd caged me in.

  The mob quieted and gazed down at me with pity and so many more emotions that I couldn't comprehend. A couple leaned in closer to offer me assistance, but I quickly waved them away. No one could help me. No one was on my side. The only one who was lie dead mere feet away.

  Faces began to blur as my vigor slipped away. Whatever gave me strength before had abandoned me. My legs and arms shook. The world retreated into a whirl until one man opened his mouth.

  "I'm with the big guy, kill all the faggots!" He blurted in a southern accent.

  I didn't hesitate for a second. I didn't let the absolute strangeness of his shout deter me. I leapt at him so fast that the surrounding people never saw it. Landing squarely on top of him, I knocked his wind out, which gave me the critical time to beat him senseless. It was a thrashing that I never knew I had in me. I swung with the left and the right without any pain in my dislocated shoulder. One punch after another came with my knuckles digging into his face for what felt like days. I happily watched his teeth dance onto the sidewalk. I think I saw my father in his face for a moment. Enraged and confused I never regained control of my fists. I let them soften his skin into bruises as he whimpered for mercy. His bones caved with every swing, as fear no longer gripped me. Fear couldn't touch me any longer - I'm Death. Everything that scared me about life, all that burned inside me as terror, was always somehow related to dying. And without ties to that fear anymore, an immediate wave of recklessness buried my pity and pushed my fists down even harder. Enveloped with mounting anger I hadn't a harness for, I leapt off the man and lashed out at the mob, unsatisfied with just one beating. My right hand connected with a random face in the crowd.

  The people quickly fled in fright and I couldn't help but laugh at them. They were shackled by such an irrelevant fear. Not me. No longer!

  My body shook so much I should have fallen apart. In a way, I did though. My tem
ples and throat pulsated with so much pumping blood that my veins strained to hold the gush. All my skin felt light around my bones, almost flaky, like it was levitating off the muscles. In the middle of a wild swing aimed at random escaping people, I lost my balance and plunged to the sidewalk next to the bloodied bigot. I trembled in what seemed to be gallons of blood. Shooting pain erupted up my hand and shoulder. I twisted and riled in the rain until the tremors stopped.