The Boatman, page 27
“Boone?” Ezra’s voice.
“What the fuck is happening?” I asked, still letting go of that cracked laugh.
“Can you hear us?” Des asked, approaching me.
“Yeah, those… kids—” I pointed into the cave. “—they told me to ‘make the right choice’. Now I can hear.” They tossed a look between me and the cave.
“What kids?” Ezra asked.
My head spun. “You didn’t see them?”
Ezra shook his head.
“That’s what they do,” Des said. “They only show up when they need something. Or you do.”
Ezra snorted, spinning on her. “And how the fuck do you know?”
She didn’t answer, just walked into to the cave.
He followed.
A cold wind whipped my face as I stepped in, whatever light that was left bleeding out around me.
40
Waiting | Sawyer
Clay packed between my teeth and coated my tongue in a bitter film. An itch in my chest urged me to my feet but they wouldn’t move.
Face down in muck, I gasped for air. The last thing I remembered was falling. Those tendrils cinched around my throat, dragging me down. My head throbbed, the horns curling inward and poking my brain.
Somewhere behind me, Maggie let out a low, warbling groan. A sound I’d never heard from her. Cold air wrapped around me. A slow trickle of water came from every direction.
I jerked upright.
The kids.
Pain flared through my skull. I made it to my side before vomiting a stream of dark water. Thick, silty, endless.
I kept heaving long after it had anything left to give, the puddle in front of me spreading over slick ground.
When it finally passed, I blinked the blur from my eyes. My chest tightened.
I didn’t need to look. I knew where I was.
Curtains of moss hung from a circle of trees all around me. The hum in the ground reverberated into my bones. A heavy sweetness lingered in the air, replacing my breath.
Turned toward the center. Bit down as hard as I could to stop the buzzing in my teeth.
The spire.
The blackness—or rather, the absence—was still there… but the tip was cracked. A pulsing purple glow leaked out of the split top like fog, the light falling to the ground like a dropped feather.
I looked away. Had to. The way it shimmered blurred my eyes and emptied my head. Any longer and I would pass out.
A black, dark glass box rutted out from the ground to my right. The surface flashed white sparkles; the edges a glimmering gem stone in the dim light. A shadow swam beneath the surface. It flowed, back and forth, ebbing with the murk below.
“Mercy—”
I glanced up. Reed crawled along the ground to the twisted mass in front of him, arms collapsing with each bend of the joint. Tears ran down his cheeks as he trudged, slipping on the clay.
“Please be okay,” he cried, reaching and turning her over. She rolled, bones cracking as she wailed at the movement.
I groaned to my feet, pressing a palm to the base of my horns. Every beat of my heart sent a searing pain across my scalp. Tried to slow my breathing as I approached them. Reed cried out as he looked up at me, terror in his eyes.
Too late. I made my choice.
Maggie stood off to the side, snorting in wild bursts. Foam streaked her jaw. Flanks quivered, rippling across her fur. Wanted to believe she was afraid of where we were, but the way she side-eyed me said otherwise.
“Stay away you monster!” Reed yelled, sprawled out across Mercy.
I raised my hands palms out. Kept advancing. “It’s too late, Reed. It’s already over.”
His face contorted in anger, flushing red. His whole body shook, terror fueling his rage. Something tightened in my gut. Maybe guilt. The stabbing in my head made it hard to think.
He looked down at Mercy. “Why?” he asked, voice coarse. “Why us? We didn’t do anything to deserve this!”
The spire vibrated next to me. Traveled through my boots, up my legs, coursing all the way to the bones jutting out of my head.
“You didn’t do anything to deserve this.” I inched closer. “People like Boone did this to you. Men like him made this deal. If the zealots weren’t so addicted to control, you and your sister would be perfectly healthy.”
He looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. Mercy rocked on her back, knees pulled to her chest. Small whimpers leaked from her heap.
Swallowing the burning clump of whatever that clogged my throat, I looked away from her. “This shouldn’t have been you. But now it has to be. You get to save them, Reed. That’s the only way all of this means anything.”
Something shimmered behind his wet eyes.
I took another slow step forward.
“If I walk away from this, I promise no more people get hurt.” I grabbed one of my antlers, giving it a tug. “These go away when we appease the Boatman.”
He didn’t answer. His shoulders dropped, defeated. Mercy cried something beneath him but it was too muffled to understand.
I closed the rest of the distance and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn’t move away.
“So what now?” Reed asked.
Fog pressed in from all sides, rising off the stream that circled the clay patch we stood on. But there was no shape. No shadow. No Boatman.
Just the spire, breathing. Waiting.
It was worse that he wasn’t here.
Expected him to be waiting for me. Ready to collect.
Maggie brayed off to the side. She was agitated, that was for sure. Her knees shook. Didn’t move from her spot.
She was waiting.
“Come on Boatman! What are we waiting for?” I yelled.
41
Death, Probably | Desiree
Dark. As impossible to see as the last time. But this time, I wasn’t walking blind.
I was looking for something.
Death, probably.
Our boots cracked against the stone, echoing forward into the seemingly endless cave. Dank air sat heavy in my lungs, pasted on the back of my tongue. No different than stumbling onto something dead in the forest.
Rhythmic, shallow breathing were the only sounds any of us could muster. Sheolite fumes held stronger than I remembered. Last time I wasn’t concerned with the smell of it, but I don’t think it was this bad.
I marched blind as they followed, the click-click of my boots a bat’s chirp in this labyrinth. Shadows twisted. Even they knew we were circling the drain.
All I could do was hold a shaky hand out in front of me and hope I felt the monsters before they swallowed me whole.
We walked. I found myself counting my steps to keep time and stay grounded. It was hard to tell the strangled thump in my chest from the mounting pressure of whatever we were headed to. I was losing hope that we would make it in time to stop the Boatman from sucking the meat off Reed’s bones.
Fingers brushed stone. I pressed my palm flat against it. Flush and slick to the touch. A wall. Finally.
“There’s a wall here. To the right,” I said, keeping my voice low. It echoed anyways, fear constricting my muscles. I was waiting for the purple veins to light up along the walls and give us away.
“You sure you know where you’re going?” Ezra asked. “I’d like to not die in here.”
I turned toward his voice. We’d walked so far that the entrance that the moonlight had vanished. A layer of sweat formed on my skin, unease growing into a solid mass. Didn’t want to admit it but the darkness was getting to me.
“Follow me and keep your voice down.” I started walking, hand extended again.
“How do you know what you’re looking for?” Boone asked. “Not like we can see anything.”
“You’ll know.”
Another few minutes passed. Maybe longer. Boone and Ezra were getting more and more agitated with every passing minute. The tension was so tight you could spin, fall, and hang yourself on it.
Boone grunted, followed by what sounded like the awkward shuffle of putting clothes on. His footsteps faltered, slowing to a halt.
“Boone?” I asked, concerned. He grunted again, rustling for something.
“Yeah,” he replied. “One second.”
He adjusted again, shifting his weight until a satisfied chuff slipped past his teeth. Something shifted in his hands. A dry snap like a twig underfoot. Sandpaper.
“Are those matches?” Ezra whispered, verging on a yell. “Are you fucking nuts?”
“What? Maybe we could figure out where the hell we are if—” Another strike. Successful. The space bloomed in an array of oranges, washing us all in fire light as Ezra covered his head with his hands. “—we could see.”
Ezra loosened, looking around. A half-relieved breath escaped him. “Put that out. You’re going to kill us you fuckin’ dullard.”
The walls laced with thick, pulsing veins of Sheolite. They glistened in the match-light, dark and oozing. Festering. The light danced across them, threatening to catch fire and end our little suicide mission early.
Boone shook the match out. “Oh my God,” he whispered, horrified.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ dullard.”
I hushed them, running my hand up the wall. The closer I got to the bulging vein on the wall, the more it illuminated in that black-ish purple glow. Almost imperceptible.
“You guys see this?” I asked, nudging closer.
For a few breaths, no one responded.
“Des, I can’t see shit,” Ezra said.
My head spun from the galloping behind my ribs. Took a deep breath.
This is dumb. Stupid.
Maybe suicidal.
Tired of walking blind.
My fingers brushed the protruding lump. Deep inside, shifting like water, a purple glow throbbed. Dormant. Sleeping.
I pulled my hand back, clenched it tight—
and slammed my fist down.
The vein burst to life, casting the area in that familiar smolder of plum. The light raced along the jagged edge, running down the corridor like a fuse and lighting the small space.
Boone gasped.
“What the hell?” he asked, watching it disappear down the stone walls. “What did you do?”
“Think I just knocked on its door.”
Tiny, smoky tongues licked off the vein, growing bigger by the second. Light swelled, filling the space in a dizzying smoke.
Oops.
“Run!” I yelled, taking off down the tunnel. “Don’t let them touch you!”
Boone and Ezra didn’t hesitate. Our feet pounded up the cave, wisps growing closer and closer. Their tips turned toward us as we approached, lashing out as we passed. I managed to dodge them but the clock was ticking.
I dipped around yearning tongues, somehow staying just out of reach. Boone and Ezra followed close, stumbling to avoid them.
At the end of the path, two figures materialized, lifted from out of the haze. My heart lurched. After everything, I’d never been so excited to see the twins.
“There!” I shouted, dipping under one of the glowing tendrils. One lashed as I ducked, whipping across my arm. A red welt wrapped my forearm, seeping blood and swelling almost instantly.
Ezra screamed. Flesh slapped stone. I slid to a stop.
One of the tendrils coiled around his leg and slithered toward his torso. He clawed at it, but it held fast. His fingers hooked beneath the shaft, pulling, only to wedge them deeper beneath the tightening appendage.
“Ah, fuck!” Ezra yelled, kicking his leg. “Get this fuckin’ thing off me!”
I freed the gun from my waistband.
Sheolite is fuel. It couldn’t attack him if I burned it up.
The sound wasn’t what bothered me; it was the possibility that the shot would ignite the rocks, exploding the caves and triggering a cave-in that would crush us.
I took aim at the Sheolite vein on the wall.
Fired.
The gun barked, kicking hard in my grip. The walls ignited, the Sheolite igniting and filling the space with an unholy crackle. The flash was so brilliant I had to slam my eyes shut. I turned my head away, the heat searing my cheek and ear.
Flames lapped at my flesh as the tongues tried to drag me back. The ground rumbled, followed by a blast of heat charging up the tunnel. The blast scalded my skin and singed my hairs as I fell backward.
A large hand gripped my upper arm, yanking me backward. I stumbled, struggling to catch my footing.
“Hurry!” Boone yelled. Ezra passed us, sprinting to the twins. I righted myself, falling into step with Boone as the fire chased us. Smoke choked the air. A heavy weight settled on my chest.
It was over. I’d killed us before we even had a chance.
Fuckin’ dullard.
Sheolite cracked, racing us to the twins. Glowing light poured from the fractures in dark bolts.
“Grab their hands!” I yelled, hoping maybe they could make it through.
The ground shook. Smoke filled the cave. I reached a hand out, feeling for their cold grip.
The walls fractured with a concussive crack that boomed in my chest. The cave spun, thrashing me to the ground. I crawled, coughing as the edges of my vision closed in.
I searched in the haze. Boone and Ezra were gone. My hands darted left, right, anywhere in front of me, hoping against hope for their hands to pull me out of here.
Smoke filled my lungs. Flames licked at my feet, the rubber softening at the bottom of my boots.
My hand met something cold. Wet. A sudden lift in my stomach, vertigo as if I was staring down the edge of a large cliff.
Falling.
Falling.
42
The Middle Space | Boone
“For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell Sheol; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption.” -Psalm 16:10.
I never questioned why our Bibles edited the word ‘hell’ for ‘Sheol’ scratched in the margins. I chalked it up to money, how we could only afford the widely available King James Versions.
For sermon I’d read from the Revised Version. It was closest to the correct Hebrew translation than the King James rewrite.
None of that mattered now. Floating without direction in the murky waters of Sheol, all the translations and interpretations seemed pretty. Simple, human squabbles.
This was it. No argument or debate. I’d arrived, in my unbroken flesh, to Sheol. The middle space.
Crisis of faith solved.
Too bad I was too late. The Boatman won. The deal would be reinstated. And I’ll be here, floating in the Waters of Sheol and ruminating on my decisions ‘til the end of time.
And still, I was relieved. Every fucked up encounter chipped at my belief and took another slice out of my soul.
The divine mercy to allow me to pass to Sheol was enough. Wasn’t supposed to be here according to all I’d learned. The Fathers never do.
“But if the Lord make a new thing, and the earth open her mouth, and swallow them up, with all that appertain unto them, and they go down quick into Sheol; then ye shall understand that these men have provoked the Lord.” -Numbers 16:30
I let it all go. My guilt, my failures. Floating into eternal nothing with me.
A mosquito buzzed in my ear. I swatted at it, slapping my ear so hard the hot sting snapped me awake, blurred eyes drinking in whatever hazy details they could.
My breath caught. The darkness was absolute, but the buzzing persisted. In my head and vibrating my teeth. Loud. It swelled, growing to a steady, unrelenting din that rattled my molars.
Water ripped over my skin, stinging where it pulled taut over bone. Something dragged me forward, the speed sinking my gut.
A dim white light blinked in above my head.
Prayed that this was the bright light that led me to Heaven. Prayed that the buzzing persisted as a technicality of pulling me through the aether, back Home.
It careened faster and faster toward me. Heaven or Sheol, I had no control as something pulled me at a breakneck speed toward the growing light. I cringed, clenching all of my muscles preparing for impact.
I slammed into it.
—and slid on my shoulder onto a wet clay surface, dragging up heaps of soggy ground under my coat. Impact knocked the wind out of me. I scrambled, climbing to my knees and gasping, trying to fill my shocked lungs.
I spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. A green wall of moss surrounded this island of clay, a moat of water trickling around it in a circle. Two figures stood off ahead—one large blur and a smaller one. They turned to me as I settled, finally gulping down air.
“Ezra! Des!” I yelled, climbing to my feet and rubbing the muck from my eyes. A weight lifted from my chest, knowing they made it. I thought we all died.
“Boone!”
That voice. My blood iced over, chest tight.
“Nice of you to join us.”
I blinked hard and scrubbed at my eyes, begging them to focus. The blur cleared, and there they were—Sawyer and Reed, standing over the fetal-curled lump that was Mercy. Sawyer smiled at me, laced black veins marring his paper thin skin that crumpled around the demonic horns that forked from his forehead.
I stumbled back, bile burning up my throat. Clutched onto the crucifix around my neck and tried to pray. Nothing came.
“Well that’s no way to greet an old friend now is it, Boone?” he asked, his smile folding into a false frown.
“Let them go,” I said, wishing my voice held more conviction than it did.
He stood, opening the black hole of his maw to speak.
Reed drove his head into Sawyer’s gut before he could speak, knocking him backward. Sawyer stumbled, whirling his arms but managed to stay upright.
Reed moved, stepping over Mercy and hobbling his crooked frame over to me. He wrapped my legs into a tight squeeze, sobbing into my stomach.
“Boone!” Ezra hollered from behind me. Two pairs of feet rushed up behind me. “What the fuck?”
Desiree ran past me, sliding to a stop between us on the slick ground.
“Let her go, Sawyer. Now.”
The handle of the revolver poked out of her waistband. She held her hands out, signaling peace, though I hadn’t forgotten what she said:
