Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu (18 page)

“West.”

“Let us hitch a ride in the
back of your truck,” I said. “If they pull you over and search, you
can say you didn’t know we’d crawled in there. What d’you say?” I
shrugged off my backpack and felt around in the pouch, pulled out
the roll of bills. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“No need, dude. I’ve had a few
run-ins with the cops myself. Just be quick. I see lights flashing
up there on the highway.” He opened the doors on the back of the
truck.

“Help him up. I’ll get the
bike,” I said.

I held Kithara in my arms while
we rocked back and forth in the dark. We were sitting on some old
blankets in the back of the truck, which was full of car parts. I
didn’t know what time it was, but it seemed as if more than two
hours had passed. We hadn’t been pulled over and I couldn’t hear
any sirens, so I guessed we were safe for the moment. At least safe
from being taken into custody. I wondered if we should have let the
cops find us so Kithara could get medical attention. That is, until
they figured out what he was, then god only knew what would
happen.

The driver, whose name was Ben,
had given me some crushed ice in a baggie and I packed that against
Kithara’s wound, then taped the towels on top. It looked like it
had helped. The bleeding seemed to have stopped because it wasn’t
soaking through the towels. At least I didn’t think it was. But
then, he felt clammy to the touch, and was moaning and twitching. I
felt so helpless and inadequate. Why had I done this stupid thing?
What future did I have now? And the worst question to contemplate:
what the hell was I going to do if he died? At this point, as far
as I could see, my whole life was fucked. I couldn’t go back to the
circus, so I had no way to make a living. I was damaged goods, a
freak no one wanted, and god, I was so scared. My throat closed up
hard, choking me. A sob forced its way out, and with that
surrender, the dam burst. I found myself crying in great heaving
shudders.

He moved in my arms. His hand
touched my cheek. “Jareth. Don’t worry. It will be okay,” he said.
“I’m trying to heal myself from within, sealing off arteries. It’s
taking all my concentration. Sorry, I can’t be with you right now.
Just hold me. Lend me your strength.”

“I’m trying,” I choked. But he
was out again, involved in his own struggle. Nevertheless the sound
of his voice lingered, soothing. He said it would be all right. I
believed him. I was an idiot. The truck rocked us back and forth.
The road droned underneath. Slowly, my eyes closed.

My own yell woke me up. At
first I thought it was a dream in which someone had thrust a knife
in my guts. Ow, shit, there it was again. Not a dream. I struggled
out from under Kithara’s body, turned my head away and was sick on
the floor. My face was burning all over and my lips felt swollen.
What was going on? Did I have the flu or something? Not good.
Needed to get out of the truck right away. “Ben! Stop! Stop!” I
yelled and banged on the walls. No response. I picked up what felt
like a fender and heaved it against the back wall. That appeared
effective since the truck slowed and then lumbered to a halt. The
brakes hissed. The back doors were wrenched open, cool air flowed
in, and I could see Ben’s cap silhouetted against a starry sky.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he said.

“Sorry man,” I said. “But I’m
feeling sick as a dog and my friend, he’s not doing too good. We
need to get out.”

“I can take you to a hospital,”
Ben offered. “I don’t want this guy’s death on my conscience.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take him,” I
said. “Just let us off here.” I shook Kithara. “Can you hear me,
Kithara? We’ve got to go now.” He roused with a groan. Ben climbed
into the back, pushed the bike onto the lift, and lowered himself.
In the dark, I felt for my backpack. “Damn! I can’t see a
thing.”

“Just a sec and I’ll get a
flashlight,” Ben said. I heard him crunching towards the cab. I
raised the lift back up, laboriously rolled Kithara onto it, and
lowered us down next to the bike.

It was a quiet highway. Two
lanes. The air felt cooler, especially after the closeness in the
truck. We must be higher in altitude. There was a fork in the road
that headed up towards some mountains, blacker than black against
the sky. Somehow I knew that was the way we needed to go. I slapped
his cheek. “Wake up Kithara. You have to ride with me now. Please,
wake up. I can’t stand it anymore.” I was nearly in tears again and
plenty nauseated to boot.

He moved and murmured, “Hey,
I’m awake now. Where are we going?”

“Someplace not here,” I said as
I helped him stagger to his feet and climb onto the back of the
bike.

Then I was wracked with nausea
again and had to double over. Ben appeared with the flashlight,
cutting a bright swath in the darkness.

“Here,” he said. “See if this
helps.”

Raising my head, I looked at
him and wasn’t prepared at all for his reaction. He yelled and
raised a hand as if to fend me off. “Jesus H. Christ!” he said,
“What the hell happened to you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just a burn I
got when I was a kid. A really bad one. It doesn’t hurt.”

“No,” he said. “This isn’t a
burn. It’s like something spreading out, dude, like you’re diseased
or something.”

Kithara moaned and then his
skin began to glow with a soft light, as if a lantern had switched
on inside of him.

“Shit, look at that! What are
you two? What are you?” Ben said in terror. He dropped the
flashlight. “I’m sorry, dude. Too freaky. Gotta go.” He slammed
shut the back doors of his truck, ran and leaped into the cab, and
steamed off as fast as he could shift gears.

I watched the truck leave,
feeling increasingly putrid, and wondering what the fuck was going
on. What was Kithara doing? I reached down, grabbed the flashlight,
and dumped it in the pack, figuring it might prove useful. Now, I’d
better get out of here before someone saw Kithara’s new incarnation
as a nightlight. I got on the bike, reached back, grasped Kithara’s
wrists, and pulled his arms about my waist. “You’ve got to hold on
now,” I said to him. “Can you hear me, shithead?”

I felt him nod against my back.
Then I recalled the vision I’d had in the circus tent of looking
through a door at a wall of pine trees. It was a real place. I knew
it and I knew we had to get there.

I toed up the kickstand, turned
the key, and throttled up. A car whooshed by as I started slowly
along the shoulder. I needed to let go of my conscious will and
allow my subconscious, or fate, chance, or whatever it was, guide
me. A lightning fork of pain sizzled through my limbs again. What
the hell was happening?

The road wound back and forth
up the mountainside, becoming more and more provincial as we rode
along. The air grew chilly, especially when we descended into a
dip, and I was glad of Kithara’s body heat against my back, even
though it was a strange, tickling sort of heat that seemed to be
transferring itself to me, as if my skin were soaking up his magic.
His glow had faded, but shit, I didn’t know if that was good or
bad. I felt like a rabbit seeking a hole to hide in, with a ticking
time bomb strapped to my back.

Higher and higher we climbed.
The scrub around us grew taller and eventually transformed into
immense ponderosa pines, ranks upon ranks of them, their naked
trunks like marching soldiers. It seemed familiar to me. This was
the right way to go. Whenever there was a fork in the road, I took
the less travelled route, feeling my way to some place I’d never
been to before. I was past even worrying why I knew.

Eventually, I began to feel
drained. Not surprising, after all we’d been through. It was
amazing I’d lasted this long. The road narrowed down to two dirt
tracks and then I saw a gated driveway. Over it arched a wooden
signpost painted with the name
Tranquility Base
. That seemed
hopeful at least. I got off, unlatched the gate, then drove down
the long lane, framed on either side by the dense blackness of the
forest. The road was mirrored above my head by a narrow ribbon of
navy blue sky spiked with stars. The air felt as cold and rarefied
as if I was on another planet. It was very quiet. The only sound
was the bike’s rumble that vibrated throughout my body.

At the end of the lane, a large
clearing opened up with a meadow of starry sky spread out above.
Rising in the centre of the clearing was a rustic, two-story house
built of wood with rows of windows. There were no lights and no
cars parked outside. It seemed dead. I stopped the bike, put my
foot down to steady it; Kithara slid off sideways and fell face
forward in the dirt.

With a cry, I jumped down and
rolled him over. His eyes were closed, his skin felt cold and
clammy. I shook him, yelling, “Kithara, wake up!”

He moaned, which was a relief.
Blood had worked its way through the towel I had taped around his
back. Damn! What next? I’d better get him inside. “Stay here,” I
ordered, as if he was going anywhere. I walked up to the door,
knocked loudly. No answer. I got out the flashlight and walked
around the back calling, “Anyone home?”

All appeared quiet. An owl
hooted somewhere nearby. Of course the doors were locked. I found a
rock, broke a pane out of a window off the back deck, and crawled
in. Panning the flashlight around, I found a well-appointed living
room with a lofty two story ceiling. There was a large fireplace in
the centre and beyond that a hallway, presumably leading to other
rooms. A kitchen area appeared to my right with huge windows all
around. That was promising, although I felt too nauseated to eat. I
found a wall switch. The lights worked. I went out the front door,
hauled Kithara into a sitting position, and with hands under his
armpits, dragged him into the living room and laid him out like a
corpse on a rug in front of the fireplace.

What did they say about blood
loss? Shock could set in? I wracked my memory to recall the
symptoms and thought they included cold, clammy skin and loss of
consciousness. Check, all of the above. I needed to keep him warm.
A pile of wood and kindling was stacked near the fireplace. I
remembered the lighter in the pocket on my jean’s leg and pulled it
out. The pipe and the choi were still in there too. Thank god!
Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming desire to smoke and make this
unpleasant situation go away. I uncapped the tube and inhaled the
familiar sweet, earthy fragrance, then firmly recapped it, and
stuck it back in my pocket. I needed to keep a hold on myself
because if I checked out now, Kithara would surely die.

After numerous tries, I managed
to get a fire going. The warmth and bright flames were cheery and
made me feel better. We might actually get through this. I removed
the taped towels and examined his wound. The bleeding had stopped.
Had Kithara’s weird glowing trick accomplished that? The area
around the dark hole in his shoulder was bruised and had swollen
tremendously. It didn’t look good. I worried about whether or not I
should try to cut out the bullet. But what if that just made it
worse? Leaning down, I kissed his cheek. Unaccountably, my lips
seemed numb as if I’d been to the dentist. When I felt them with my
fingers, they seemed swollen.

Feeling a burning need to
relieve myself, I figured I should look for a bathroom. There might
be bandages and antibiotic ointment for Kithara’s back and I could
see what was happening to my mouth. I found a bathroom down the
hall. Flipping on the light, I glanced at my reflection in the
mirror, and reeled back, gasping in horror.

What the fuck had happened? My
burned side was bloody and weeping as if freshly abraded and the
good side had turned an ashy gray color with scaly ridges like a
lizard. My eyes were bright red. Frantically, I ripped off my shirt
and then my pants. Shit, it was all over my body! My stomach
convulsed and I erupted like a volcano into the toilet. Oh god, oh
god! This couldn’t be happening. I crawled around on the floor,
mewling in terror. I couldn’t stand it. Had to check out of this
nightmare right now. I picked up my jeans lying crumpled on the
floor, fumbled in the pocket, pulled out the tube of choi, the
pipe, and lighter. Hands shaking, I hit the pipe with flame and
inhaled, then leaned back against the tub as the drug hit my
system. Felt a little calmer now, although my stomach still
clenched with nausea. I examined my hands which were covered in
that same gray substance. It looked as if the top layer of skin had
been burned into ashes. I rubbed at it and a sore opened up,
weeping. It was like the plague or something! Could Kithara have
caused this? If so, I was going to kill the bastard, that is, if he
survived.

I sucked in more smoke, angrily
musing that now my transformation to monster was complete. Maybe
Sligo wouldn’t recognize me and I could go back to the circus to
live out my life as a freak. I hadn’t realized how much I had
needed my good side, the side that was still beautiful. Now, even
that was lost to me. I couldn’t even cry.

The pressure on my bladder
forced me to get up and shuffle over to the toilet. I closed my
eyes until I’d finished, then realized my dick felt numb and sort
of slimy in my hand. I looked down and nearly shit with fright. The
skin had developed a pink, nacreous sheen, as if several layers had
peeled away. A yellow discharge oozed from the end and there were
growths along the side, like little fingers of fungus. At that
moment, I lost it completely. Full blown hysteria. I flailed about,
hitting things, hearing them fall. Dragged myself screaming along
the floor. Oh fuck! I retched again, but nothing came up. Raw
throat. Aching body. I banged my head against the tub, and it
occurred to me that I could end this by bludgeoning myself to
death. I banged it again.

A voice called to me. Cool and
soothing. Kithara’s voice. The sound reverberated in blue waves
like balm to my fevered brain. I couldn’t tell whether he was
really calling or if it came from inside my head.
Jareth, you
idiot, calm down. The illness is temporary. It will pass. Trust
me.
Well, that sounded like him. No real answers, just more
mysteries. Yet, it seemed to work. I leaned back, breathed deeply,
and the pain retreated, like blowing out a match. The voice came
again.
Jareth, I need you.