Apathetic God

by Ian Withrow

Her next words were swept from her mind when she saw the portrait hanging on the wall above the doorway they had just come through.

  A large picture frame, at least four feet wide, was filled edge to edge with a print that Lauren recognized immediately. It was her, landing in a soft, sunlit meadow filled with wildflowers. The photo was crystal clear except for her body, where the blurred black lines of her hair and feathers gave her an otherworldly appearance. She was a black pearl in the midst of a sea of vibrant green and a riot of colors. She recognized the scene well, and was dumbfounded at seeing it here.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Oh well, there’ve been several like these released anonymously. There must be half a dozen by now, but this one is my favorite. Something about it, it’s so... raw and honest. You never mentioned you were a model while you were staying with me before. I hope you don’t mind that I hung it up?”

  Caroline seemed nervous, as though afraid her choice of decoration would offend Lauren.

  “No I… um, I don’t mind.”

  “Oh good, shall I go get you those towe-”

  “Caroline?”

  Lauren was staring intently at her, her eyes unblinking.

  “Do you have a cell phone charger I could borrow?”

  A half an hour later Lauren was sitting cross-legged on Caroline’s bed. Her soaking clothes had been replaced by fluffy grey pajamas and her hair was freshly brushed and drawn back into a messy bun. Caroline had insisted she prepare some food when Lauren couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, so she was off in the kitchen humming to herself and tinkering with pots and pans.

  Lauren, on the other hand, was staring intently at the tiny black device laying on the mattress in front of her. She’d dried it as best she could and set it in a bowl of uncooked rice until just a few moments ago. She picked it up gently, the charging end of a power cable in her other hand and whispered a silent prayer as she plugged the two together.

  Immediately she set it back down and held her breath. It seemed like an eternity had passed and nothing happened. No sound, no light, nothing. Lauren sighed disappointedly, trying to convince herself she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand to look at the phone any longer and she flopped back onto the bed trying not to cry.

  Ding.

  Was it real? had it been in her mind?

  She waited, unwilling to look again in case she had simply imagined the sound. Her resolve lasted only seconds before she was sitting back up and grabbing the phone.

  1%.

  The tiny charging icon lit a fire of hope in Lauren’s breast and she willed the phone to life with all her heart. The next several minutes stretched into eternity as she watched the power levels of the phone slowly rise. At long last it hit 5% and she would wait no longer.

  Lauren reached out and held the power button, and her breath.

  She released them both, nearly breaking back into tears when the broken screen flickered to life. The device finished powering up and immediately began to ring and vibrate like a thing possessed. Lauren watched guiltily as the number of unread text messages ticked steadily upward, and looked away when the screen flashed a warning indicating the voicemail was full.

  All told she had 314 unread messages and a dozen voicemails, all from Valerie. She thought about ignoring them, considered simply calling her estranged friend straight away, but if Valerie had felt it important enough to write then Lauren was determined to read her words.

  She tapped the screen and her heart sank. It didn’t seem to recognize her action at all. She took a deep breath and tried again, nothing. She resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room, desperately wrestling with the angry blackness that lashed out from her mind. She could feel the rage and anger in it, but she kept herself in check.

  She tried a third time. A fourth.

  Hours passed as she tried every conceivable option, her solutions becoming less realistic as the night wore on. Finally, exhausted, she resorted to addressing the phone as if it could hear her.

  “Work, dammit!”

  Lauren nearly dropped the phone in surprise as it started to ring in her hand. She stood, uncertain of what to do as a name and number popped up on the small screen.

  Sir Edward Warvington.

  Lauren’s mind raced, she’d not even considered that Mr. Warvington might call. She remembered the pain in his eyes when they’d parted, the stern warning that she ought not hurt his Valerie. Well, it was certainly too late for that.

  The ringing continued, every ring bringing both relief and terror to her heart. Did she dare answer? what if she didn’t? Would he call again?

  She took a breath and hit the answer button, it worked.

  She heard the phone line open, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. Silence greeted her from the other end of the phone as well.

  “H-hello?”

  The whispered word stopped Lauren’s heart. The soft, lyrical notes of Valerie’s voice caught her totally unprepared. Her breath caught in her throat and she scrambled to think of something to say.

  “Lauren? Lauren if this is you I’m so sorry…”

  Lauren scrunched her eyes shut at the pain in Valerie’s voice.

  “Lauren please, say something. Say anything. Tell me you hate-”

  “I’m here. Valerie I’m here.”

  Lauren finally managed to get the words past the lump in her throat. She heard Valerie sniffle quietly in response before answering.

  “Lauren I’m so sorry, I can’t ever expect you to forgive me but please understand I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never, ever meant for that to happen.”

  “Vee Shh, It’s ok I-I’m sorry too. I’m… I don’t know what to do. I miss you, I’m so confused by everything else but I know I miss you.”

  “I was so scared you’d left the phone somewhere, thrown it away or broken it… I kept calling and texting you but I never got a response. I’ve called you every night since you left.”

  “I think I lost myself. I hated you, I hated everything. You hurt me so bad I didn’t want to feel that ever again. I… did things. It’s blurry, like it’s not me, but it is.-”

  “Lauren I know, it’s been all over the news… Listen it doesn’t matter, I don’t believe it, any of it. And I’m not the only one, there's tons of us that still believe in you.”

  “Valerie you have to believe it.”

  There was a long pause.

  “I-it’s true? All those people…”

  Lauren could hear a tremor of fear in Valerie’s voice. But she couldn't lie, wouldn’t.

  “Yes. It’s true. There’s this.. I don’t know what to call it, it’s like I’m sick or-”

  “Did you mean to? I mean... to... do that?”

  She wanted to say no, but the power, the strength, the unadulterated pleasure she’d felt? Even now she struggled to muster a sense of remorse.

  “I’m a monster, Vee, the things I’ve done? They’re… unspeakable. I don’t know who I was, what I was becoming and then I… saw the picture you took, that day in the meadow.”

  “Of course, I remember it. You were so beautiful, are so beautiful.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Lauren can I… I’d like to see you, i-if I can.”

  She wiped her tear-streaked cheeks and smiled. Valerie’s questions confirmed a hope she hadn’t dared to realize. She’d never dreamt that Valerie would ever want to see her after the things she’d done.

  “I’m back home, in America. I miss you so much.”

  “Lauren, America is a really big place.”

  “Right.”

  Lauren let out a stuttering, teary laugh.

  “I’m at Cherry Hills Church outside of Paducah, Kentucky.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Five days.

  It had been five days since Lauren’s return to Cherry Hills, and Lauren didn’t think she’d stopped pacing for more than a few minutes during her entire stay. Valerie was taki
ng a boat from England. She was far too recognizable to take an aircraft, and it was only through the generous greasing of several palms that she’d managed to secure passage to America without a frenzy of media attention. Of course, as soon as her ship departed the United Kingdom, she’d gone radio silent.

  Lauren was going mad from anxiety and anticipation. The unstable weather reflected her mood, and she struggled to keep herself cooped up within the confines of the tiny church. Caroline advised she stay indoors, and Lauren had grudgingly complied.

  Still, she felt like a bird in a cage.

  Lightning flashed in the bedroom window, illuminating the pre-dawn and burning after-images into Lauren’s eyes. The storm hadn’t lifted for days. If anything, the weather seemed to be growing steadily worse. Lauren didn’t mind the rain or the lightning, but most of downstate Illinois would likely disagree with her. Flooding was already starting to become an issue across the bottom portion of the state, a situation Lauren was following loosely on the television.

  The rain-stricken midwest barely made the news, however. Of greater interest was the deteriorating world stage.

  North Korea had launched rockets carrying nerve gas on Japan and South Korea, triggering the United States to deploy soldiers to the peninsula. Iran was in the middle of a religious coup as the Ayatollah was overthrown and butchered by a group of fire-worshipping zealots decrying their loyalty to Weyland. In Europe, France, Germany, Holland, most of Scandinavia, and the United Kingdom had announced the formation of the Northern European Federation. Their governments, and militaries, were merging in the name of common defense and they were sealing their combined border to all foreign nationals.

  The only place on Earth that didn’t seem embroiled in war was Africa. In a change of pace, many African nations found themselves on the receiving end of a flood of Western refugees fleeing the violence.

  Lauren clicked haphazardly between channels, each more gruesome than the last. Her mind was a thousand miles away, drifting in an ocean of doubt and worry.

  A posh British accent brought her back to her senses and her eyes focused on the screen.

  “... at 5.6 million pounds sterling, It’s the most expensive photograph ever sold. The photographer, Valerie Chatwick, came to fame recently when it was alleged that she was engaged sexually with the controversial being Lauren Corvidae. She could not be reached for comment, but her spokesperson, Sir Edward Warvington, famous for his role as a fighter pilot in the second World War, released a statement saying the money would be donated to global humanitarian causes…”

  Lauren’s ears perked up. The short piece had revealed a host of new information, and left her scratching her head at the questions she’d not thought to ask before. Unfortunately, the report must have been finished because the reporters swiftly changed topics and fell in line with the rest of the channels.

  Great.

  Lauren sighed and lay back against the bed, huffing and puffing her frustration to the empty room. Finally, she could take it no longer. She slipped off of the bedspread and headed for the wide, double door to the outside world. She passed Caroline on her way and ignored the curious look she received from her.

  “Lauren…”

  She pretended not to hear, increasing her pace and shoving the doors open with ease. The wet, ozone tinged air hit her like a wave and filled her with wanderlust. The pine and oak, the earth and rain, all formed a perfect combination of her childhood and dragged her to the freedom of the skies like a magnet.

  “Lauren you can’t be seen!”

  Caroline’s warning fell on deaf ears. Lauren was already running, her bare feet splashing mud and water up her calves as she raced across the meadow. She relished the feeling of mud and grass squishing up between her toes, the cool water below and the warm rain coming down in sheets from above.

  Her wings spread wide, Lauren leapt skyward and with a few powerful beats she was soaring just above the treetops in a wide loop above the church and it’s grounds.

  Her hawk-like eyes could clearly see Caroline, hands on her hips and shaking her head at her reckless behaviour. Despite her apparent frustration, Caroline had a smile on her face when she turned back to the dry interior of the building.

  Lauren smiled as well, knowing she’d already won the forgiveness of her host. She turned North and let her heart carry her where it would.

  Washed out roads, overflowing rivers, and partially submerged towns dotted the landscape below her, testament to days of nonstop rainfall. The land below her was serene, free of any human activity in light of the dreary weather. She enjoyed the relative freedom, diving, rolling, and cartwheeling through the air free of any prying eyes from below.

  She pushed onward as the sun began to emerge from beyond the horizon. The dim, cloud-filtered rays of gray on the rolling hills and deep woods of the Shawnee had Lauren mulling over the past few months, and her current predicament. She absentmindedly put her hands on her stomach, keenly aware of the unwelcome life growing within.

  Unwilling to face her difficult feelings, she turned her attention back to the land below her. She was nearing her childhood home, unless she was very much mistaken. Sure enough, first Anna, and then the tiny streets of Cobden were winding below her. Not a soul was in sight, and something in her heart demanded she land.

  She touched down lightly in the overgrown yard of a faded but familiar house. Erin’s windows were boarded up, the paint was peeling, and the yard hadn’t been trimmed in what must have been months, but to Lauren’s eyes it looked the way it did on the last night she’d seen her childhood sweetheart.

  Lauren looked around the yard. A new, barely weathered light post had replaced the one she’d demolished with her truck. She shook her head to clear the fog that was building inside her and approached the door. It was locked, but that proved no great obstacle for Lauren’s powerful muscles. With a sharp crack, she forced the door open and sent dust swirling into the stillness beyond.

  The doorway may as well have been an concrete wall for all the difficulty Lauren had in passing through it. She forced herself to push on, to break the barrier within herself and step into the quiet, book-filled living room.

  Everything was as she’d left it that night.

  Books scattered everywhere, the bed a mess, the bathroom door battered and broken. She kept her composure until she reached the tub. It had been cleaned, by whom she didn’t know, but all the scrubbing and bleach in the world couldn’t clean the image of Erin’s lifeless hand from Lauren’s mind. Lauren sank to her knees, her cheek resting against the cold porcelain and hot tears burning paths of fire across her face.

  “I’m so, so sorry Erin. You didn’t deserve this.”

  The house didn’t answer her, and neither did her friend.

  She hadn’t been at the funeral. She’d missed it while in her manic, terrified stupor at Caroline’s and by the time she’d ventured back out into public she was fairly certain she’d never return to Cobden. It was a prophecy that had proven true, with the exception of the night she’d rescued her father.

  Pent up guilt and shame for her weakness, for her inability to conquer her own fear and say goodbye had eaten at her, gnawed at her heart in the darkness every day since she’d died. She was a coward and she knew it, deep in her core she knew it.

  Perhaps she could right that wrong, at least in some small way. The life inside her seemed to shift, to nudge her ribs at the thought of atonement. She was sickened by the thought of it, and by the way her heart jumped at the tiny movement. She hated herself, hated Weyland, hated the spark that burned in her gut, and hated that she couldn’t hate the being inside her. It represented everything wrong, every crime that had been committed against her, and yet she couldn’t help but know it’s innocence.

  Lauren clamped down on her mind, forcing thoughts of her unborn child back into the darkness and pushing herself to her feet again. Silence loomed, broken only by the soft patter of raindrops falling from her feathers.

  Stop it
.

  Lauren wandered through the house to Erin’s bedroom. Dusty blankets covered the bed in a tangled mess. A forgotten salt shaker lay spilled on the pillow and the long-dried rinds of a cut lime were scattered across the covers. Lauren’s heightened sense of smell brought her heart to her throat.

  The familiars scents of spice, rain, and chocolate hit her like a wave and she could close her eyes and imagine that Erin was here with her. She could practically feel her breath, her warmth, and her gentle laugh. Lauren let the feeling wash over her and crawled deep into the bedspread, wrapping herself in the blankets and burying her face in the pillows. For hours she lost herself in every good memory she could conjure, every smile and laugh that they had ever shared. But even at its height, it was a hollow shell of the real thing. She knew her high was temporary, that she’d never see her friend again.

  Lauren finally let herself mourn. She released the tension and the fear she’d held onto for so long. When she finally emerged from her nest of blankets she felt fuller. Less empty and broken than she had in many months.

  Lauren wiped her eyes and made her way slowly to the door.

  “Goodbye, Erin.”

  Lauren shut the door carefully and looked to the skies. She had one more stop to make.

  Lightning flashed, casting odd shadows in the grey-skied afternoon as Lauren approached the small cemetery outside of town. She was having trouble seeing through the thick sheets of rain, but the cemetery looked abandoned. Unsurprising, really, given the terrible weather.

  She had no clue where to begin searching, but the graveyard was quite small. Lauren touched down gently at one corner of the property, the soft ground yielding to her bare feet. She stepped in front of the first headstone and began to make her way carefully down the row.

  A few minutes turned to twenty, thirty, an hour, two. Name after name and date after date wandered through her mind. Loving father of four, Mother, Sister, Daughter. The heartfelt epithets struck a chord in Lauren, leaving her to wonder what she would find when her search concluded.

  The slow crunch of gravel caused her to duck down. She turned and pinpointed the source of the noise, but what she saw she could hardly believe. An old, battered ‘96 pick-up truck was making its way down the gravel road towards the cemetery. With a powerful leap, Lauren took shelter in a towering ash tree. Despite the rain, Lauren was sure she recognized the vehicle. The closer it got the surer she became. Every dent and patch of rust on the aged body of the truck was intimately familiar to her.