Hold the Light (26 page)

I almost denied it but I had to admit, it was a good cover. It allowed Randy to rest in peace and permitted me to live in silence. "Just believe the news like everyone else."

"But ...but."

"Don't make me mad," I demanded, and she complied immediately.

I released the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"God," I said irritated with myself, "what am I doing?"

My life felt so inverted all of a sudden. I was lying about my identity and trying to stay inconspicuous like I was a fugitive. The idea of hate was so repugnant to me just a short time ago, and now, it seemed, that it was what I embodied.

"No cure for me now, no fix, no ..."

Randy was gone. It hit me like that. Gone. He had to die to save my little life. Depression and denial chilled my quivering bones, but they were already frozen thanks to the gift that cursed through my veins.

"...no rest for the wicked," I finished, as another convulsion rumbled deep in my chest.

The cold air inside me dispersed in a whirlwind and raised goosebumps over my flesh. The convulsion echoed inside me and rushed outwards. A second passed then the sensation returned with visions of unfamiliar faces. The sights of the dead. It retreated and hid deep within my chest, taking the images with it. I was left exhausted and frightened. I curled up in Randy's coat, to the only comfort I had left in the world, and fell asleep.

I dreamed of Hell and its burning wrath. But at least it was warm.

Chapter 49

If the candor of men sheds all burdens than the earth would crumble under that weight. I, as it was with the gift, was Atlas below, trying to hold it all together. Or pick up the pieces, I could never tell. What I could tell was the gift's retention of all that the previous hosts had shouldered, all that Randy, my poor old friend, and that monstrous convict imbibed. As they fell from the earth they cast off their hopes and fears with this little blue gift, giving it weight. But its true blue massive load was born from the thousands of souls it stole. That total, growing everyday, is what began to change me. My very cells knew just that, knew as the two before me did, and altered under the gift's chemistry, doing so from the inside out. My mind most of all. Yet one crucial iota of my old ways remained. My need to run.

I ran the police off track and told them I had just met Randy at a club that night and didn't know him at all. They hounded me about every aspect of that night and I was able to lead them where I wanted. I was released a short time later and ran free. With Randy's trench coat flapped around me as I bolted down the hospital stairs, I thanked God for the chance to run free.

But as I left the changes made to me became apparent. It was strange to step outside of the sliding doors of the hospital. The cold breeze hit my face but it sent no chills through me. Wrapping my coat up tightly with the collar flipped up, a toasty circulation immediately engulfed me. I smirked, cuddled in the warmth.

"Randy always wore the coat," I mumbled, "the gift must freeze its host body ...and slow aging. I've found eternal youth." I quickly frowned. "Eternal damnation is more like it."

That must have been why Randy wore the coat all the time. The convict wore a long coat too and he lived even longer than Randy.

"And now I'm bound for the same," I frowned, thinking of the prices paid for this eternal youth. "God, the irony of it."

I proceeded down the steps and into Boston with my hands crammed in my pockets. Like an axe to a tree stump, a splitting pain quickly cut into the top of my skull. It splintered down my spine while the cool breeze of the gift swirled below my skin as I walked along.

My eyes were enervated with guilt as more faces were slapped across my vision. I walked on aimlessly. Depression and anger welled within me and I was ready to panic. I had to run and my feet did work on their own until I found myself in a park.

"Anyone of you could be next to die," I whispered at the surrounding people ambling about the open park before me. "Anyone but me."

Roving through park's paths, I fixated on my shoes to keep from eye contact and tried to get a handle on myself. My emotions felt different within me, almost foreign, like they had already become of little use. I began to realize why Randy was so cold and emotionless most of the time. Even being near people made me uneasy. Anyone that I passed could be the next victim of the gift. I'm sure Randy felt the same. How the hell did he live with this? I had to think about something else.

Brisk autumn winds filled the air. The trees were already withered. Loose pebbles and fallen leaves crunched under my feet. The people were bundled in warm attire and everything seemed in place. Life seemed good to everyone surrounding me. I peered upwards and saw a dark blue and gray sky cradling foreboding clouds that sagged at the bottom. A few bright green leaves still clung to life on scattered trees and shone against the clouds in defiance. A thin gray shadow passed overhead and the leaves quivered on their branches. The trees that lined the path I walked creaked, actually leaning away from me as I passed, trying to run from my plague. It didn't matter how far they tried to tilt backwards and uproot themselves, there was no escaping me. No escaping death. Bowing in demise, every tree toppled as soon as I passed them. Their massive trunks crashed to the cement and shattered into dust on impact.

The path ahead narrowed and I floated along the dark grass. Branches closed in, attempting to capture me. Little yellow leaves clawed at my face and shoulders and the sky turned to black. In a panic-stricken heartbeat I sprinted off and eluded the clutches of the park.

"Can't take me," I yelled, shaking my fist.

My shoulder jolted and a pedestrian bumped off me.

"Prick, watch where you're going," barked a teenager. I looked over my shoulder to apologize when I caught his profile and recognized his face.

"Randy?" I said, mouth gaping open with astonishment.

I fidgeted and started to panic. Air solidified into a lump in my throat and my heart beat rampant against my ribs. With little hesitation, I sprinted to the man and grabbed his shoulder.

"Randy, is that you?"

The kid spun around and glared at me, revealing a face that was clearly not Randy's.

"Get away from me, you freak," the stranger commanded.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," I said and eased away.

The boy traveled on, but another man turned to look at the scene. He looked just like Randy as well. He was walking up a dirt road in torn overalls. Randy looked so young. An ancient truck rumbled up from behind him on an old dirt road and it looked like it was going to run him over. I rushed up to yell at him to watch out and when I got to him, Randy and the truck disappeared. The park reappeared and the man I thought was Randy punched me in the face.

"Only in this city could someone punch a man with his arm in a sling," I murmured nursing my jaw.

I took a good look around and noticed that everyone in the park resembled Randy in some way. A deep and hot panic clamped on my throat. Breaths came to me in short choppy patterns and my heartbeat pounded harder in my temples and throat. Pain from the knife wound jabbed at my side. Sorrow ran free within my veins and drugged me with its flow. Gloom lingered everywhere and it was sickly sweet. The more I consented to the dulcet feelings, the more I felt sorrow sway me. If this was the commiseration that was going to be forced on me, I wasn't going to lie down and take it without a fight. I checked every soul I came upon to see if they were Randy. My eyes quickly grew tired from the constant scrutinizing and I couldn't stop from shaking. The possibility that Randy could still be alive quickly became the only important notion.

"George?"

I was shocked. Could it be? A person ran to me from the distance. I could see Randy again.

He dropped the two coffees he was holding and charged at me.

"George!" The voice said again. My name sounded so strange.

"Randy?" I muttered, ready to cry.

I fell to my knees on the cool cement, ranting and reaching up for the heavens, thankful to have Randy back. My head filled with things to tell him. I wanted to say how much I missed him and that I was losing my mind without his help. I was in way over my head and I needed his guidance.

I was embraced into warm arms as I cried onto a woolen shoulder.

"Oh God I'm so happy," I ranted, "I can't do this alone, I just can't ..."

"George, are you all right?"

"I am now."

"Oh God, what happened to you George?"

"Since you left?" My teeth chattered. "Everything, but it's fine now. I'm safe now with you here, Randy."

"Oh God you poor man. You're delusional," a familiar voice said. "It's me, Jessica."

I looked up into her face and watched the features morph into her soft cheeks. Randy's short black hair blossomed into resplendent, beautiful hair. Tears cleared from my eyes and locked with hers. She gleamed into my soul and reminded me of all my past regrets. All my misjudgments from when we dated in college flooded back.

"Good God, what has happened to you?" she repeated.

Fear possessed my tongue, blockading my words off the back of my teeth. I felt powerless and washed up; nothing made sense.

"The ...the ..." I muttered up at her, still tasting my tears and holding her tightly as if I would sink without her. "The rest of my life happened."

"It's okay, George, it'll be all right," she held me and stroked my hair. She kissed my greasy locks and whispered assurances in my ear. "I came the second I heard about Randy. I've been looking for you."

I absorbed her sentence, but didn't pay attention. Just as long as she was there, in the flesh, and not some hallucination; that was all I needed. She stared at me with a pressing look that made me realize I was crying in a heap in the middle of a crowded park. I nodded and she hoisted me up.

"Lets get you home, George."

The hallucination stayed in my mind. I felt like an assassin of all life. All it took was one invidious touch and I would rob anything of its life. A killer paid in full with the curse of near immortality. The thought of God entered my mind. I wanted to rationalize how I could be what I am under His eyes, but every idea I discovered felt hollow and lacked the fear of His wrath. And lacked the warmth of love. I was cut off, freezing, and alone.

It all seemed so entirely terrestrial now. Everything holy and unholy felt thrust down to Earth and on my shoulders. In that moment, life was so clear through the eyes of Death.

A snort of a laugh blew out my nose.

"What's so funny?" Jessica asked.

"Life," I muttered as my laugh veered into a convulsion.

Jessica held me tight with one arm while the other hailed a cab.

Chapter 50

We returned to our old roots and renewed our friendship while we talked at my apartment. For the life of me I couldn't remember a thing we spoke about, though. All I could do was live in her eyes and never break away. It was difficult to maintain an extended conversation with her that day; I'd often break into a quick and uncontrollable convulsion. I hadn't the control over them initially - that I had gained with time, and that passed like it always does. In two months we renewed our love. More time passed and she didn't renew her lease in Chicago. She transferred to Boston and we began anew.

The next years I spent with Jessica were the happiest and the quickest I would ever have, no matter how dark times got. Strange though, that in recalling the most enamored time of my life, only bits and pieces come to mind. The five years we spent together had the most joyful climate, but no individual instances cried out to be noticed. I was just plain happy, immersed in a feeling that couldn't be wrapped up into a neat little ball.

We began where we let college leave off. Trying to start our lives together, we settled down and I secured a job. A sort of normal life. Jessica, in all her soothing insight, instilled constant reminders in me that there was a life for me, out in the real world. She reinforced me with steel supports of hope with her caring, even though my constant Death trips were as common as breathing. I convinced myself, based off her help, that the gift was just a job and I couldn't stress over it. If it did I would be consumed and become the convict. But that only dulled the pain enough to go to work.

My daily commute brought me to a high-rise, where I played the droning number cruncher in an office prison. The strangest aspect of it all was that if I didn't have the gift, I would have gone mad with the boring monotony of my career.

My office was my outlet of retreat, my enclosed space away from prying eyes, yet over the time I worked, coworkers often steered clear from me. I tried to pass off my tremors as a minor medical condition, yet they knew there was something else they couldn't put their finger on.

I enjoyed the solitude in any case. Out my window I could watch a vast rippling sea of glass and swimming cars press through the constant flow of traffic. The ocean of windows was as inviting as a cool dip in still waters. I watched people walking on rooftops and cleaning windows. I could see tiny figurines walk the sidewalks and then do lunch. I often stared at the top of the shorter building across the street, wondering if I could make the leap, busting through my window, dozens of stories up, to splash into the glass of the buildings across the street. It was so oddly enticing that I found myself standing on my desk, after closing my door and kicking my stapler aside, ready to leap into the gray abyss of a rainy afternoon.

"It doesn't look too far, and hell, I can't die. I'm Death."

I gazed over the leaden clouds and bleak city with tears welled in my eyes and was stopped by a convulsion. Visions of fires and debris spanned my sight. I watched droves of rescue workers rush futilely to the bodies that I had already visited. I watched a young girl cry, hugging a blanket, as she looked for her mommy. A tear streaked down my face and stopped in the gutter of my mouth. It sat there and waited for me to react but I couldn't. At that moment I realized that I had nothing left in me. I didn't harbor pity in my heart and soul any longer. I realized I had become a spectator to my own life, no more than a shell of a man. Everyone I loved was so far from my heart.