Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (5 page)

Samuel placed
the frame on the ground, leaning it against the wall underneath the window. He
sat down on the floor and stared at it again. His mind raced, sifting through
logic that no longer computed in a world that did not follow the rules of the
one he knew.

He
shook his head. In one moment, one brief observation of one photograph, a
significant portion of his memory returned. That did not bother Samuel. What
shook him to his core was how an old photograph of him and his wife had made it
inside a desolate cabin, abandoned for decades, in a dead world. That troubled
him more than not knowing why he had descended into this hell in the first
place.

***

“She was
gorgeous.”

Samuel jumped
at the sound of the voice. Even though their conversation had not been
extensive, he recognized it.

“She still is,”
Samuel replied. “I didn’t hear the door open.”

He turned from
his spot on the floor in front of the photograph to see Major sitting on the
chair now pushed back against the far wall. His silvery mane sprawled over his
shoulders like the spider webs inside the cabin. The black headband he had worn
to hold it back was no longer in place, and neither was the ponytail. Major’s
receding hairline held firm against the encroaching inevitability, even though
the man was clearly within his sunset years.

“Maybe.”

“What do you
mean?” Samuel asked.

“I mean, maybe.
She was gorgeous, she is gorgeous, and she is no longer gorgeous. All of that.”

Samuel stood
and approached Major. The old man sat, unbothered by the sudden closing of
distance between the two.

“Where did you
go?” Samuel asked.

“You need to
slow down and let your brain catch up with your mouth. You’re asking questions
before the answers to the previous ones make it inside your head. We’re safe
here. For now. I’m sorry I had to leave you so quickly, but if I hadn’t, the
wolves would not have driven you to this place, and that had to happen.”

“What
had to happen?” asked Samuel

“There you go
again.”

Samuel stopped
and put a hand to his forehead. He ruffled his hair and dropped back to the
floor next to the framed photograph. He leaned against the wall and felt the
chill leaking through the wood. The light that had filled the window earlier
now faded into lonely blackness.

Major nodded
before speaking. “I can tell you a bit, but when I stop, I have to stop for
reasons beyond your understanding. Can you live with that?” he asked Samuel.

“No. But I’m
going to lie and tell you I can,” replied Samuel.

Chapter 5

Samuel sat
cross-legged on the destitute bunk while Major remained in the chair. The old
man grimaced as he lifted one leg and placed it over the other.

“The ligaments
go before everything else, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Remember
that.”

Samuel smirked
and tapped his fingers on his thigh.

“Give me a
second, Samuel. I need to think about how to frame this for you.”

Samuel nodded. The
old man stared at the ceiling, one hand rubbing the end of his chin. He opened
his mouth, held it for a moment, and then shut it again. He repeated this two
more times.

“Are the wolves
coming back?” asked Samuel.

Major held a
finger up to Samuel, lines creasing his forehead, which drove his eyebrows down
in the middle.

“Did you ever
play a musical instrument? Like a violin or a guitar?”

Samuel furrowed
his brow and thought about the question. So much of himself remained as
nebulous as the world outside the cabin.

“I think so.”

“Good enough,”
replied Major. “Do you know how sound is created on a stringed instrument?”

Samuel shifted
again as the stiff base of the bunk dug into his backside. “What does this have
to do with anything?”

Major shook his
head. He swatted at the air in front of his face and fell back into the chair. “This
isn’t going to work.”

“Sorry,” said
Samuel. “Tell me.”

Major took a
deep breath and continued. “When you pluck a string on a guitar, the vibration
creates the sound. The string vibrates very quickly, and the sound is not
constant. The note is really an infinite series of oscillating sounds.”

Samuel
shrugged.

“Let me tell
you the parable of the blind wise men and the lion. The blind men are hunting
the lion, following its trail. Hearing it run past, they chase after it and grab
its tail. Hanging on to the lion’s tail, they feel the one-dimensional form and
proclaim ‘It’s a one! It’s a one!’ But then one blind man climbs up the tail
and grabs onto the ear of the lion. Feeling a two-dimensional surface, this
blind man proclaims, ‘No, it’s really a two!’ Then another blind man is able to
grab the leg of the lion. Sensing a three-dimensional solid, he shouts, ‘No,
you’re both wrong. It’s really a three!’ They are all right.”

Samuel held
both hands up. “I don’t understand what that means.”

“Just as the
tail, ear, and leg are different parts of the same lion, this place and the one
you’re beginning to remember are different parts of the same world.”

For the first
time, Samuel stopped tapping his finger. He looked at Major and then at the
floor of the cabin. He turned to face the framed photograph and then the lonely
window on the other wall.

“So how do I
get back to the tail, or the ear, or the leg, or whatever the hell part of the
world is mine?”

“I don’t know,”
replied Major.

“Why not?”

“Imagine
walking on a vast beach, near the ocean. You scoop up a handful of sand. You
sift the sand until a single grain sits in your palm. A strong gust sweeps off
the water and knocks that single grain of sand out of your hand. Could you bend
down and pick it up off the beach? Would you know which grain was yours?”

“Are you trying
to say there are millions of localities that are part of the same existence?”

Major shrugged.
“Maybe billions, maybe there are an infinite number of localities. Maybe there
are billions or an infinite number of existences. I really don’t know.”

“That’s really
hopeless,” said Samuel.

“Depends. If
your locality was a healthy, vibrant place, it might feel hopeless to leave it.
On the other hand, if all that you knew was slowly dying, unwinding, coming
apart, it might feel like getting into the lifeboat before the ship sinks.”

Samuel nodded.

“There is one
more thing you need to know before we lie down for the night, something I want
you to think about. Let your mind turn it over while you sleep. Just like
grains of sand on a beach, these localities exist very close to one another.”

***

The men slept and
awoke feeling no more refreshed than they had the night before. Samuel opened
his eyes and watched Major remove two cylindrical objects from his bag and
place them on the floor. The designs on the labels had long since faded. Major
used a tool from his belt and pried the lid off the can. A faint and barely
recognizable scent rose from the floor.

“Sauerkraut?”
Major asked Samuel. He handed a can to Samuel while using two fingers to dig
into his own.

“Cabbage of
some sort, right?”

Major nodded
while shoving more of the wet, cold breakfast into his mouth. Samuel scooped up
a handful and felt the consistency of the substance, detecting a hint of salt,
but the sensation dissipated until he was left eating a tasteless, odorless
meal.

“I thought I
remembered sauerkraut being really strong.”

“You’ll get
those feelings or intuitions the longer you’re here. It’s like your mind slowly
unrolls them for you so your psyche isn’t run over by the flood of data.”

Samuel let the
comment roll around toward the back of his head. “Why isn’t this cabbage
strong? Why can’t I smell it or taste it?”

Samuel stopped
and cocked his head sideways.

“I don’t know,
either,” said Major. “I mean, I can feel it. I know you have, too. Things here
feel like they’re not quite 100 percent. You know what I mean. Just look at the
tint of any flame you light here. It’s always off, some shade of yellow or
green. The sun, the odors, my taste buds. None of them operate at full speed. This
locality feels like it’s at 60 percent.”

Major smiled
while Samuel remained staring at the floor.

“Each locality
seems to have distinct traits that could be unique, but vary from one to the other.
But they all keep a thread that unifies them. Like our blind men chasing the
lion, they’ll never grab a beak or a fin. They could grab a stub of an
amputated tail or half of an ear that was bitten off in a fight, but it will
always be lion-like. Never not lion-like.”

“I don’t think
I understand.”

“Neither do I,
but you get used to it with each passing cycle. Eat your sauerkraut. We need to
get out of this cabin before Wolfman Jack and his crew come back to finish you
off.”

The two men
finished their meal and sat on the floor of the cabin while their stomachs
rumbled in protest. Samuel glanced at the framed photograph leaning against the
wall. Major nodded toward the nail.

“Can’t hurt to
put it back,” Major said.

Samuel
stood and replaced the photograph on the wall. He stepped back and looked again,
and he nudged the corner up until the frame hung straight.

“That shit pops
up everywhere.”

“What does?”

“Reflections. These
little reminders of other localities. They don’t ever seem to be as vibrant as
the originals. That’s why I call them reflections.”

Samuel nodded.

“And there’s no
point in trying to take the reflections with you. Your attention will be
somewhere else, and when you look back, the reflection will be gone. I know you
considered rolling that photo up and tucking it in your waistband, but you’d
end up with nothing but a blank piece of photo paper sooner than you’d realize.
Best to leave it here and not torture yourself with it.”

“Where to?” Samuel
asked. He dusted his pants off and faced away from the photograph.

“I’ve got a
feeling someone who can help us has popped out. He’s at least a two-day hike
from here, and through some pretty tough shit. Gonna make the fight with those
wolves seem like walking your dog in the park. Plus, I’ve got two other friends
I’d like you to meet.”

Samuel raised
his eyebrows. “Or I could sit in this cabin, staring at the reflection on the
wall while waiting for death.”

“Something like
that,” replied Major.

***

“I
hope Major finds him before the wolves tear him apart,” said Mara.

“I don’t give a
rat’s ass. About Major, newbies, or the wolves,” replied Kole.

Mara tucked a
strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head at him. “Of course you do,
Kole. You know Major can’t slip on his own. At least not where he wants to be.
He’s going to lay that charm on anyone he has to in order to get what he wants.”

“And how is
that any different than what happens in the real world? I’ve had many people
turn on me; men I thought were friends but were really out for their own asses.”

Mara shrugged. “You
have to trust somebody. As long as you know Major will sell you out to get what
he wants, what’s the big deal?”

Kole shrugged
off Mara’s question. “I’m not the one making a big deal about Major, am I?” He
rubbed a hand across the tattoo sleeve on his right arm, trying hard to remain
focused on the conversation he’d had with Mara dozens of times already. “Maybe
you have a good reason to get back to whatever life you had, but I don’t. I’m
just as happy to stay here and let the cloud eat me.”

Mara gave up, tired
of the posturing Kole used to end all of their conversations. “Major is looking
for someone or something. It’s his only hope, and I feel like it’s mine as
well.”

“Whatever,”
replied Kole.

Mara rolled her
eyes, mildly surprised that Kole had paid attention long enough to give his
disinterested reply.