Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (28 page)

Samuel waited,
feeling as though none of the words Mara used could be wasted.

“Whether you’re
the giver or the recipient of those moments, you must find them too, Samuel. I
need you to live wholeheartedly. I want you to promise me that no matter what
happens, you’ll seek those out, relish them, and give others the opportunity to
do so as well. You are worthy of your existence. What you bring to the world
matters, and that light cannot be snuffed by a cave, or a cloud, or a Reversion.”

Samuel laughed
with Mara. “Don’t forget the undead hordes.”

It was her turn
to smile.

“You and I have
something unfinished,” Mara continued. “I need you to know that it’s not
pleasant for either of us, but it must happen before the Reversion in this
locality ends.”

“Anything,” he
replied. “I’ll do anything for you after all of the pain I’ve caused.”

She shook her
head. “You were not the cause of my pain. You helped define my path, that’s
all.”

“Euphemisms,”
he said.

“Truth,” she
replied.

Samuel
shivered. The spreading gloom crawled up the walls like the animated shadows of
an old horror film. He saw tendrils of black spreading across the face of the
limestone while more of the physical space fell into the spreading void.

“Tell me what
must be done.”

“First, help me
sit.”

Samuel
maneuvered behind Mara. He slid his hands underneath her arms and pulled her up
until she was able to rest her back against the cave wall. Samuel heard her
whimper as the movement agitated her wounds. He waited while she drew deep
breaths.

“Do you
remember our time in the coffee shop? In the dream?”

Samuel grinned.
He pictured her dolled up in maroon-red lipstick and hip-hugging, black denim
stretched across all of the right places.

“Yes.”

“Good. I wish I
could say we’re going back there, but we’re not. However, we have to do the
same thing to go somewhere else, a place you’ll find painful.”

Samuel looked
at the black fingers silently scratching their way down the wall.

“It will wait
until we’re finished,” she said, following his gaze.

“What should I
do?” he asked.

“Nothing. Let
me lead. Once we’re there, you’ll know what to do.”

“Where are we
going?”

“I can’t answer
all of your questions, Samuel. You’ll need to trust me. Can you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said,
nodding his head. “But I’m coming back alone, aren’t I?”

Mara smiled. “Take
my hand and don’t let go.”

Samuel
maneuvered his hand into hers. He felt her cold, clammy skin, and he shuddered,
imagining what it would feel like in the near future. Mara’s skin looked
translucent, as if her very essence was fading with the approach of the Reversion.
Her hair looked greasy and thin, and her eyes were sunk deep into their sockets.

“I’m going to
close my eyes, and when I do, you should, too. We’ll be somewhere different,
and yet we’ll still be here. I can’t explain.”

He squeezed her
hand.

“Are you
ready?” she asked.

“Mara,” he said,
“I hope the crossing of our paths helps you. I hope you get peace.”

“We all deserve
peace,” she replied.

Mara closed her
eyes, and Samuel followed her lead. He felt the ground sway, and the electrical
thrumming returned to his feet and shot through his legs to his torso. Samuel
heard a brush of air move across his skin. The breeze felt different than the
air in the cavern. Mara’s hand pulsed in his, a quick jolt to let him know she
was still there. Samuel arrived in his not-so-distant past.

***

“C’mon,
Sammy! ‘Tis the season!”

He looked
into his friend’s face, red and swollen from Christmas cheer shipped in
decorative, glass containers.

“I can’t,
man. I have to get home. Kim’s going to be worried sick.”

John held up
one finger while the other hand came close to letting the aged whiskey jump the
lip on his glass and land on the expensive Berber carpet beneath their feet. Samuel
looked around the room and chuckled. A few of his coworkers were making obscene
gestures with ornaments they had grabbed from the tree while the shy ladies of
the office sat on a couch, sipping mint schnapps stirred with candy canes. The
aroma of ginger and chocolate floated by on the notes of John Lennon’s famous
Christmas melody. Samuel had lost sight of the boss, who was upstairs going
over the sales figure of his administrative assistant.

“Check it,”
said Johnny. He held a black, plastic object in one hand.

“One of the
new smartphones. No more shitty signals for me. Got the full voice and data
plan.”

“That’s sweet.
How’s coverage?” asked Samuel, slipping into the tech talk that came so
naturally to him.

“Everywhere.
Try it out. Call Kim and let her know you’re fine.”

“I gotta go.”

Johnny
rolled his eyes. “Dude, just call her and get yourself another whiskey sour.”

Johnny
handed Samuel the phone and began picking his way through the people hovering
near the natural-gas fireplace. Samuel made more small talk with the group
before pushing toward the den, where the hired bartender stood with his gaping
yawn. He dialed his number, and the digits on the LCD display made Samuel squint
at the device.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

“Hello?”

The voice
came through the pinhole on the earpiece.

“Hey, hon.”

“Sam. What
time is it?”

He looked
down at his watch with the company logo crested in the middle of the face.

“Early evening,
I think.” As soon as he said it, Samuel cringed, knowing he should have been
more precise to prove his sobriety.

“Everything okay?”
Kim asked.

“Yeah, fine.
Johnny gave me his new smartphone to call you. It’s one of those—”

“Sam,” said
Kim, cutting off his excitement about the newest gadget he would have to own. “You’re
leaving now, I assume.”

“Sorry. Listen,
I’m going to hang here with the guys, telling office jokes and making fun of
each other’s nine irons. Gonna be a bit later.” The pause forced Samuel to look
at the phone’s touch-screen display to make sure it had did not dropped the
call. “Kim?”

“Get a cab,”
she replied.

“Honey, I’m
fine. I’ve already started on the black coffee,” replied Samuel, looking at the
whiskey in his opposite hand.

“Samuel,”
she said with a tone that made his heart ache.

“Really, I’m
fine. Keep the back porch light on.”

He heard the
rustling of the comforter on the other end. Samuel could see her dark hair
spread across the black, flannel sheets they had put on the bed for the winter.
He could smell the conditioner in her hair, which would have been blown dry and
brushed. Samuel could almost feel the smoothness of her skin from a leg shave
in the tub and moisturizing bath salts. He felt his mouth go dry, seeing his
wife’s naked body buried beneath the mounds of bedding like a gift, waiting for
his arrival.

“Please be
careful.”

Samuel took
a deep breath and nodded until he remembered Kim was not in the room.

“I will. And
Kim?”

“Yes?”

He looked around
the room at several people within earshot and reconsidered what he was about to
say.

“Nothing. Love
you. See you later tonight.”

“Okay Sam.”

A dead click
followed, and Samuel handed the sleek phone back to his friend.

“We all
good?” Johnny asked.

“All good,”
Samuel replied.

They sat at
the table in the dining room, where the boss had reappeared. His administrative
assistant sat on the couch with the other ladies of the office, her hair wispy
and her lipstick in need of some touch up.

“Cards, anyone?”

“It’s a
Christmas party, boss. We can’t play poker,” said Johnny.

“Holiday
party,” his boss corrected. “The wife and kids are gone for the weekend. This
is anything I want it to be.”

Samuel
looked over his shoulder at the ladies gathered on the couch, snippets of
whispers and giggles escaping, and then he looked at the men around the table.

“Who’s
dealing?” Samuel asked.

The poker
game played out as most do, a forgetful carousel of laughter, dick jokes, and
evaluations of female anatomy. The ladies on the couch had left to return home
to their balding husbands, who would lay a paunch on their stomachs for the two
minutes it would take to finish the job. A few observers stood behind the table,
pretending to be amused by the entertainment only gamblers can enjoy.

Samuel
looked at his stack of chips and shook his head. He had cashed in twice, and
there were no bills left in his wallet. Johnny saw him look and flashed Andrew
Jackson at him from under the table. Samuel shook his head, even though he found
the offer to borrow money for more chips tempting.

“I’ve only
got one or two more hands in me, fellas.”

“Keep your
desk next to Fagboy Davidson and you’ll have more than one or two hands in you,
if you know what I’m saying.”

Samuel
laughed at the vulgar homophobia. He knew it was offensive, but it was also
very funny. Davidson was still in the closet, although some might say he had
one foot sticking out, and it wore a red pump.

“It’s
already dark, and Kim’s going to want me to fix the leaky faucet before I go to
bed tonight.”

“You fucking
family men,” Johnny said. “You’re always getting told what to do by the ball
and chain.”

The table
roared with laughter, and Samuel waved them off, suddenly feeling the Catholic
guilt his parents had used to raise him.

“One more
for me, then I’m done,” he said.

“That’s what
she said,” came from another seat at the table, which pitched the group into
more laughter.

“Then you’ll
need this to help it down.”

Johnny
poured the whiskey from the bottle directly into Samuel’s glass. He slammed it
down on the table and slapped Samuel on the back.

“To Sammy
and his family. May he find an easy way to get his wife to consent to a three-way
and bring some fun into his boring, suburban life!”

Samuel
smiled and raised his glass while the other poker players clinked theirs,
throwing their chins skyward to help ease the liquid down their throats.

The hand
finished with Samuel losing again. He over-bet the last round in hopes of losing
and not cashing out his chips. The self-sabotage worked in his favor, allowing
him to rise from the table with an empty whiskey glass as well as an empty
wallet.

“Fellas,” he
said with an exaggerated bow. “Unfortunately, I will see all of you assholes at
the office on Monday.”

Another
round of laughter filled the room.

“Boss,” he
said, raising a hand in the air, “you do have the best office parties. I’ll
give you that.”

With a few
more salutations and even more good-natured insults, Samuel searched through
the coatrack until he found his black, leather coat. He pushed a curtain aside
and looked out at the new round of snow that now covered his car, making it
look like a lump in a bowl of poorly mashed potatoes. Samuel fished through his
pockets until he felt the icy sting of his car keys and fisted them in one
hand. With a final glance, he looked back at the table to wave, but the poker
game had already moved on after his departure. Samuel opened the door and
stepped into the chilling, swirling snow. He pulled the collar of his coat
tight around his neck and trudged to the driver-side door.

Samuel’s
fingers lumbered around the keyhole, becoming numb in the process. He cursed at
the cold air gnawing at him and then swore at the battery in his keys, which were
no longer able to open the locks with the magic of infrared rays. He used the
tip of the key to scrape the ice crystals from the lock and managed to push it
inside. The tumbler surrendered with a click. Samuel shoved his frozen fingers
underneath the handle and lifted, dispensing the foggy haze from the dome light
into the frigid air. He sighed, blowing plumes of mist before pouring himself
into the driver’s-side seat. Samuel shut the door and leaned back on the headrest.
The world ramped up on a conveyor belt that started turning everything in a
clockwise motion. He opened his eyes and focused on the steering wheel until
the car stopped spinning.

“The cold
air,” he said.

Samuel
placed the key in the ignition, and the car turned over, coughing and wheezing
with mechanical influenza. The radio came alive, and he thrust a finger at the
presets. Some nameless, vanilla, hard-rock song came on, which made Samuel’s
churning stomach even worse. He punched the power button with his right hand
while dropping the driver’s-side window with his left. The subzero air poured
into the car. Samuel felt it burn his lungs before putting the window back up.

He gunned
the gas pedal several times and released the parking brake. Samuel thought of
Kim, but their conversation was an ink blot, dark and formless. He decided that
she would want him home on a night like this, where he could spoon with her,
both of them staying warm. That thought brought a smile to his face.

I can do this. Been
drinking coffee all night long.

“You fucking
dog,” he said to the empty car. “You have, but you’ve been dropping whiskey
with it.”