Imprisoned

A small panel on the door slid open and a pair of eyes stared down at Charles through the barred opening. The light from the naked bulb seemed dimmer compared to the harsh light of the other side of the door. The panel swooshed closed just a few seconds later.

“Hey, Gary.”

“Yes, Charles?”

“I can’t sleep. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“For the same reason?”

“You know it.”

“Do you think he knows that staring at us like that creeps us out?”

“I’m not sure anymore. A few weeks ago I would have definitely said yes. He has that look about him.”

“I think it’s those thick glasses. They make him look like a giant insect or something especially with the light reflecting off of them like that.”

“His terrible comb-over isn’t helping either,” Gary chuckled and saw that Charles was stifling a laugh. “But really it’s the entire get up. That scowl and that semi-smile that still looks a lot like a scowl, that coffee stain colored necktie and that equally ugly striped shirt; I mean, seriously, does this guy have any other clothes?”

“That coat.”

“What’s that, Charles?”

“I said, ‘That coat.’ That long coat with those glasses really gets the goose bumps going.”

“Yeah. It really does. It’s just so sterile-looking. But I guess that’s the point.”

“There used to be six of us, Gary. Now we’re down to two. What did he do with the others?”

“Five.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only five of us, total, were in here from the start.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Charles, we’ve been through this.”

“Oh, that’s right. I keep thinking of my wife. God, I miss her so much. Why do I keep thinking she was here with us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she was here with us that first day?”

“She was?”

“Geez, man! Don’t you remember that your wife was here on that first day? You were inconsolable when she left. But I have to admit. That goodbye you two had was pretty heartbreaking. I nearly cried.”

“You cried, Gary?”

“I said I NEARLY cried. I can’t believe you don’t remember that.”

“That’s peculiar. You know, I barely remember that day. Isn’t that totally strange? You’d think something like that would stick with me. I mean, we’ve only been here for what? Three, four months?”

“At least. Hey, Charles, what about the others? Do you remember them?”

“Just barely; I remember Rex. Do you remember Rex? I hated him. You know what? I don’t know if it was more that I hated him or was scared of him.”

“He was definitely a scary guy.”

“Did he scare you, Gary?”

“The guy was completely nuts. I mean, you could see it in his eyes. He was put on this earth for one purpose, and one purpose only: to kill things. If they ever bottle up the destructive force of a tornado, the label should have his face on it. I still can’t believe they locked him up with other people around.”

“They took him away though.”

“Eventually! I mean he killed Bob! You remember Bob, don’t you? Nice guy, kind of a momma’s boy. He was quieter than you! And let’s not forget that Rex nearly killed you too; digging his fingernails into your wrists like that.”

“I know. These scars make it difficult to forget that day,” Charles looked at his scars and they felt tender as he remembered Rex.

“I don’t know why they waited so long to take that guy away. You’d think they wanted to get rid of Bob the way they acted when he was killed. Who am I kidding? The guys that have us locked up were probably more scared of Rex than we ever were. Damn, I miss Bob all of a sudden.”

“Bob… I knew Bob.”

“We all did. It’s kind of hard to not know a guy you’re sharing a cell with let alone one who was killed in front of you.”

“No, I mean I knew him before I even knew my wife.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean I barely remember him but it was brief. We were kids in grade school and he always kept to himself in the corner.”

“That sounds like Bob all right.”

“No one in the class really noticed him but I did. It’s weird. I remember him but I can’t really remember much else around that time. I don’t even remember what happened to my dad.”

“I thought you didn’t know your dad. Isn’t that what you said a while back?”

“I didn’t but I do know he was around when I was in pre-school and all that and that one day he wasn’t there anymore. I don’t remember him leaving or dying or anything, really. He was there one day and gone the next. I do remember that my mother smiled less but I think that’s because of whatever happened in the hospital.”

“Charles…”

“It’s the strangest thing. I can remember being happy with my mom and dad. And I can remember waiting for my mom to come out of the hospital and never seeing my dad after that. But nothing in between. I mean, not really.”

“Was she in the hospital giving birth to a brother or something?”

“No she was hurt. She fell down the stairs. I don’t remember that but I do remember that’s what she kept telling the police. Just so odd. My dad was there and then he was gone and in between all I can remember was strange Bob sitting in the corner of the playground during recess.”

Gary just looked at Charles not sure how to respond.

“I think I knew Kieran too,” Charles said as he leaned his head against the cold concrete wall.

“Jesus! That must have been one messed up daycare for all three of you to end up here!”

“No, I knew Kieran in college. He helped me pass a lot of classes but wasn’t very personable. I think he creeped a lot of people out. He would do really well in his classes but you really didn’t see him anywhere else on or off campus.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly the most sociable. Second to Rex, he was the one I was most worried about.”

“You had nothing to worry about with Kieran. He was distant, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean how much of him did you really know?”

“I guess now that you mention it I really didn’t know much about him other than he helped me pass a few classes. That, and he ended up in here with us.”

“And what did he do to end up here?”

“I really don’t know. But then again I never really bothered to ask him. Did you?”

“No. Whatever he did can’t be as bad as why we’re here otherwise they wouldn’t have taken him away from this hell hole.”

“Didn’t they just put him somewhere else?”

“I thought they took him away; let him go.”

“That’s just the type of person he was, I suppose. Here one minute and gone the next. Maybe even he didn’t know why he was here.”

The two sat in silence, their eyes closed but neither of them falling asleep.

“Gary?”

“Yes, Charles?”

“Can you still see him?”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Gary opened one eye and saw those thick glasses staring at the two of them. No one heard the panel slide open this time. There was no condescension or patronizing undertones in the way Dr. Matheson looked at them. It was equal parts mechanic and sympathetic but neither Gary nor Charles thought the sympathy was genuine. Dr. Matheson looked to his side and nodded.

“He’s always watching. One way or another.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. I think they’re coming in.”

With a loud metallic click the door swung open and Charles cowered in the corner as Dr. Matheson approached him.

“I’m scared!” Charles said, his voice quivering.

“I know, Charles,” Gary answered

“Charles, I need you to come with me,” Dr. Matheson said, “These nice gentleman are orderlies. They’re going to escort you just like last time. Now don’t put up a fuss I would hate to have to sedate you again.”

“They’re taking me away Gary! I know it! They’ll take me away like they did Rex and Kieran!”

“No they’re not, Charles. They’re not,” Gary whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Charles asked.

“So Gary is still with us, Charles? “ Dr. Matheson asked. “Tell me which one Gary is again.”

“He’s right there, Dr! I don’t want to go anywhere. Can’t I just stay here with Gary?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t what’s best for you, Charles.”

“They’re not taking you away Charles.”

“What? What are you talking about? Of course they are! These orderlies with no necks are going to drag me kicking and screaming. I just want to stay here with you. You’ve always been nice to me Gary.”

“I know, Charles,” Gary said.

“I know, Charles,” Dr. Matheson said.  He turned to the orderlies who grabbed Charles by the arms, “According to my notes, Gary is the newest one. Charles has grown quite fond of him so there might be some fight to be had.”

“Don’t let them take me away, Gary! I’m scared!”

“I know you are, Charles. But they’re not taking you away. They’re taking me away.”

“What?”

“They’re taking me away, not you. They’re going to do some medical stuff to you to make you all better. But I can’t be here if you’re going to be all better. And I want you to get better”

“Why not, Gary? Why can’t you be here?”

The orderlies lifted Charles off the floor and carried him to a sterile, cold room down the hall and laid him on the mattress. They tightened the leather straps on his hands and feet and each held down his shoulder. Dr. Matheson took out the thick rubber mouthpiece and shoved it into Charles’ mouth and flicked a switch on a small metal box. The doctor then took out a folder and searched through the notes within.

“Ah, yes. Gary. This is a risky one, gentlemen. He may fight the treatment more violently than before. If you remember he was traumatized when we eliminated the personality known as Bob and he even dug into his own wrists, possibly as a suicide attempt though his Rex person may have taken over. Gary seems to be the voice of Charles’ reason personified. He’s everything Charles wanted to be. He might be closer to Gary than he was the hallucination of his own wife.”

“Doc?” The larger orderly asked, “Why are we taking that away from him? If Gary is such a good guy, can’t we give him that much?”

“While his other persona might be helpful, it’s not healthy for him to see his reason and confidence as something outside of himself. He has to learn that there is no Gary, that he can be totally confident and reasonable on his own. Now hold him down.”

Back in the cell, it was empty except the naked bulb high on the ceiling. Gary would not be there when Charles returned just as Gary told him. It would just be an empty room with barred windows and padded walls and maybe a straightjacket to keep Charles warm, his hands literally tied to avoid any more “Rex incidents.” The orderlies let Charles sit on the floor in his favorite corner once the treatment was done. A part of him wondered if that naked bulb flickered at all during the treatment. It seems like it would, thought Charles. Then he looked to the opposite corner, Gary’s corner, and found nothing but shadows.

“All alone,” Charles whispered to himself, “I wonder where they took Gary off to.”

A Fairly Fairy Tale

“Once upon a time” is how these types of stories usually start out but this particular story has been told time and time again as you’re about to learn. The players and the setting are all the same. The outcome never changes and likely never will. The good guy wins, the princess is saved and the bad guy is defeated. All is right with the world by the time the final act ends. And it is all wrapped up in a neat little bow, usually with the words “… and they lived happily ever after.” Sometimes even children grow wearisome of this formula but it’s interesting to note that even the drabbest or most contrived story can be made interesting with a change of perspective.

“Uncle!” young Theodore exclaimed from his chamber door.

“What is it, Master Theodore? You two should be asleep! Or at the very least quiet enough to make the rest of castle think you are. That’s what clever kids would do, not this yelling about business,” Uncle Draco responded as he closed the chamber door.

“But we can’t sleep!” a voice giggled from underneath the sheets of the other bed.

“Young Lady Madison, I can’t believe you’re up too! Well, what can I do to convince you two to get in bed and go to sleep?”

“How about some of those pastries we had for dessert tonight? I know we still have some.”

“Theodore! No! We’ll surely get in trouble for that.”

“No, we won’t! Not unless you tell mother and father!”

“Do you want to get Uncle in trouble too?”

“Your sister is correct, Master Theodore, besides. Sweets before bed will just give you nightmares and I know how easily you scare.”

“I’m not scared of anything! And I hate it when you call me Theodore; both of you!”

“Very well,” Uncle said, “Get in bed, you two. I’ll tell you a story.”

“What kind of story?”

“That’s entirely up to you. What kind of story would you like to hear, Madison?”

“Tell us how mother and father fell in love again!”

“Oh no, not that one again!” Theodore bemoaned.

“What’s wrong with it?” Madison asked.

“We’ve heard it so many times already! And you know how much I hate love stories!”

“But it has adventure in it too! Daddy slays a dragon!”

“Well,” their uncle interjected, “I can’t say that that’s entirely true. After all, I was there. I remember exactly what happened.”

“We all do!” Theodore said, “Once upon a time mother and father are madly in love and on the night before they were to be wed an evil dragon kidnaps mother. Father searches for an entire year before asking every wizard and fairy in the land for magic to find and defeat the dragon. When Gannil Corom: the Great Wizard of the North says he had such magic father didn’t hesitate to use it to rescue mother and slay the dragon. But the price was his first born (me, by the way). Father fought Gannil Corom and trapped him within one of the dragon’s scales. That’s how father made our kingdom the most respected in all the realms and he and mother lived happily ever--”

“Theodore!”

“What? That’s what happens!”

“You’re not telling it correctly! Let Uncle tell the story!”

“It’s still going to be the same story!”

“Oh, my! I’m afraid you’ve been deceived by lies, children. Who told you that that was what happened?”

“Maiden Helen,” Madison replied. “And everyone else tells us that’s what really happened.”

“Oh, dear. That won’t do at all! Tuck yourselves in and I’ll tell you the truth of your mother and father’s legend. It’s every bit as fantastical as the original but, as you’ll find when you get older, there are complexities to the truth that make it all the more preferable to listen to than stories of make-believe.”

The young boy and girl were tucked into bed by their uncle who pulled up a chair between their beds. Madison smiled and scrunched up her nose, a bit worried that there wasn’t going to be nearly as much romance and love in this new version of the story. Theodore scrunched up his nose, a bit worried that there would be much more. Their uncle nodded and reassured them that there was just as plenty adventure and romance that each one could possibly want in a story.

“First things first,” Uncle began, “The true villain of the story is indeed Gannil Corom and NOT the dragon as many would have you believe.”

“Uncle, you’re telling it wrong already!” Madison yelled, giggling from excitement.

“Oh, of course!” Uncle continued, “Once upon a time, your mother’s beauty and charm won the hearts of everyone in the land but two found themselves smitten by her. As you know one of them was your father. But what you might not suspect is that the other was the dragon.”

“The dragon?! How could a dragon have fallen in love with our mother?” Theodore asked.

“Dragons are complex creatures, terribly misunderstood because of their appearance. I don’t blame anyone being scared of such a giant and powerful creature. But dragons have as much potential for creation as they do for destruction. The legends say that dragons are the ones who brought magic to this land.”

“But there is no magic in this land!” both children said in unison.

“Are there any dragons in it?”

“Of course not!”

“Well then it makes sense that dragons are the source of magic, doesn’t it? Now, where was I? Oh yes, the business about the dragon kidnapping your mother the night before her wedding was actually a terrible mix up that Gannil Corom had taken advantage of. You see, when word got out that your mother and father were getting married, the dragon decided that he could no longer live within their kingdom. It would be too painful to see the woman he loves with a man, in all honesty, the dragon did not like.”

“Why didn’t the dragon like father?” Madison asked.

“That should be obvious!” Theodore exclaimed “We come from a long line of dragon slayers!”

“But our ancestors only slew evil dragons who destroyed crops and terrorized villages and things like that. If this dragon could fall in love then he couldn’t be evil.”

“That’s quite right, Madison,” Uncle replied, “But you see he knew some of those evil dragons, and was even close to a few of them. While he understood that their evil acts got them killed the scars of their deaths take long to heal. In the dragon’s eyes, your father could never accept him for who he was. Your mother understood best what a kind soul the dragon was and sought to find him and invite him to the wedding. The dragon politely declined and wanted to tell her how much he loved her but he could not. For obvious reasons, the dragon knew that nothing could ever happen between them.

“The land was treacherous from the dragon’s cave to your father’s castle and the dragon offered to escort your mother back home. But Gannil Corom was all too aware of their whereabouts and cast a vertigo spell and they ended up wandering in circles for nearly a day. You see, when the truth is passed down from person to person, certain embellishments are most certainly going to attach themselves in order to make for a more exciting story. While the legend you heard said it took a year for your father to find the two, it really took less than a week. But that’s not as exciting as a year-long search. The wizard, it seems, cloaked them from even the best trackers and hunters abilities so a small army could not find the dragon or your mother. And that’s when he approached your father and told him that the dragon had kidnapped your mother.”

“But why would he do such a thing?” Theodore asked.

“Why, he wanted the dragon dead, of course! The parts that make up a dragon (teeth, skin, scales); they are very rare and very potent in the world of magic; even rarer still that this was one of the last known dragons in existence at the time. So the wizard pointed your father and his most trusted knights in the direction of the creature. The story about offering you before you were even born was true, Theodore though only Corom knows what he needed you for.

“Your father is a brilliant tactician and managed to subdue the dragon and ‘rescue’ your mother before either of them had a chance to explain the truth of what was going on. Before the dragon could raise his voice to explain to your father that it was all a ruse for the wizard to obtain their firstborn child and magical dragon parts, Corom appeared and struck the final blow. With his dying breath he whispered into your mother’s ear.”

“Did he tell him he loved her?”

“Did he tell her how to defeat the wizard?”

“You know, one thing most people don’t know about dragons is their ability to concisely say what needs to be said. If there ever were a quota of words, a dragon would never have to worry about running out of them. You’re both right. He did finally confess to her how he felt and melded his own mind with hers so that she knew how to trap the wizard in one of the dragon’s scales. And with that the dragon died. And you know the rest.”

“But you didn’t say ‘…and the lived happily ever after’” Madison pointed out.

“Maybe it’s not finished yet. Besides, I know if I was there I would have collected something of the dragon as proof that it existed.”

“And what would you propose to collect? The dragon bones? A tooth? Surely you wouldn’t want a scale? Once your father trapped Corom in the scale of the dragon he had the scale destroyed to prevent the wizard from causing anymore trouble, effectively ridding the land of its remaining magic.”

“Well,” Theodore said, contemplating a nagging plot hole in his uncle’s story, “Even if father wanted to let the dragon rest in peace, someone somewhere would have seen something left of the body. Perhaps someone stole the body? Or if they burned it other villages would have seen the pillar of smoke! But there were never tales of anyone outside of our realm seeing this dragon. It’s suspicious is all.”

“Well, Theodore, I can see you’re just as clever as your mother. You see, while your mother loves your father, she cared a great deal for that dragon and made him promise to live.”

“That’s a silly thing to promise.” Madison added “He couldn’t control dying.”

“Very right, Madison. The dragon could not control his body from deteriorating especially since the wizard knew exactly how to kill him. But like I said, dragons are full of magic.“

“What does that mean?” Madison asked. Her eyes sparkled and she wanted to smile suspecting that there was yet another hidden happily ever after.

“You see, it would take what was left of the entire dragon’s life force but he would take a different form. He would no longer look like a dragon or have any of the magical properties that being as such would hold. To fulfill the promise he made to the woman he loved he spent his last bit of magic and became human. And now he roams the kingdom in secrecy to protect it.”

“So we might have seen him and not even know it?” Madison inquired.

“We may have met a former dragon?” Theodore said as his mind raced through the possibilities. The two children yawned and their eyelids barely remained open.

“It’s finally time for bed, you two.” Uncle tucked in the two young ones as they settled into their beds. Madison lifted her head as her uncle opened the chamber door.

“Uncle,” she said, “You didn’t end the story the way it’s supposed to be ended.”

“Lord Draco,” the guards hailed Uncle, “The king and queen request your presence in the throne room.”

“Tell them I’ll be down in a minute.”

“So is that how it ends?” Theodore asked, his voice fading quickly into the chilly night air.

“You know how it ends, children. Your father and mother had a glorious wedding. Theodore was born and Madison arrived to the world just two years later. The dragon learned to love you two as if you were his own children, secretly guarding you as he had promised to the woman he had once loved.  While most magic had gone from these parts, they all knew (your father, mother and protector) that love was the one power that could never be taken away from them… And they lived happily ever after.”

Lacking in Death

My name is Aubrey Winston and I am not a big fan of hospitals, but I find myself at this particular one as a result of a job I am meant to do. I am in the employ of an elite group of individuals that call themselves The Pantheon, but more on them and the nature of my business a bit later. They have expressed some interest in a man by the name of Charles Jameson who is due to be discharged any moment now. I look at my watch and see that only 5 minutes have passed since I arrived so I run to the convenience store across the street and buy a soda. I normally don’t drink soda but I was feeling uneasy. Perhaps I was feeling anxiety over the fact that this would be my last job working directly for The Pantheon.

Walking out I see a panhandler asking for change in the street. He looks to be around 65 years old and he holds out his hand towards me, not even looking me in the eyes. But I recognize him even if he doesn’t. I run back in the store and ask for a paper bag. I hand the beggar the paper bag with a few hundred dollar bills inside and run back across the street and sit on the hood of my taxi. Well, technically it’s only mine for this particular fare. The automatic doors of the emergency room outpatient doors swing open and a whoosh of that sterile hospital smell greets me. A nurse rolls out a wheelchair carrying an old man who seems to be in his 90’s but I know to be a bit older than that. This is Charles Jameson.

“You call for the taxi?” I ask the nurse.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking it from here, nurse.” Mr. Jameson said, smiling. “Thank you, though.”

“Hospital policy, Mr. Jameson,” the nurse responded to him. She looked up at me and said, “He’s nearly 100 years old so please drive extra carefully.”

“Will do, miss,” I answer. I remember when it was difficult for me to act younger than people I knew to be older than. But I eventually grew used to it. I had to. People looked at me weird when I spoke like their grandfather.

Mr. Jameson got up out of the wheelchair of his own accord before the nurse could secure the brakes to both wheels. She smiles at me and nods her head dismissively at the old man who put on his coat and tipped his hat to the nurse before putting it on his head.

“You be careful now, Mr. Jameson,” the nurse said as she went back through the automatic doors. I opened the door for the man and he got inside the cab but not without looking at me suspiciously for a split second. Hopping into the driver’s seat I drove off.

It was silent for perhaps only two minutes before anything was said but that silence spoke volumes. I could feel his stare burning through the partition but paid it no mind until he knocked loudly on it. I looked at him, annoyed, through the rearview mirror. He raised his eyebrows at me as if I was the one who had knocked on the partition. I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel obligated to at least not until he slid the partition open as if to invite me to speak first.

“Well,” he said.

“Sir?” I asked.

“Who are you? And what do you want from me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Cabbies don’t open the doors for me. Hell, they don’t even get out of their taxi to greet the nurse. We’ve been driving for almost 10 minutes. You never asked me where I was going and I never told you what direction to drive so I’m going to ask you again. Who are you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Son, you don’t know what kind of life I’ve led so don’t presume to know what I would and wouldn’t believe. Now, don’t insult me. Who are you? And what do you want from me?”

There was nothing I could say. This guy was pretty sharp. It’s not surprising as he did used to be a detective until he retired several years ago.

“The truth is, Mr. Jameson,” I finally answered, “I don’t want anything from you. But my employers would like to extend a welcome to our tight knit society. And I know exactly what kind of life you have led, Mr. Jameson.”

“What does that mean?”

“A long one, an unusually long life; is that right, Mr. Jameson? You’re papers at the hospital say you’re 88 years old but we both know you weren’t a little boy during the war. We both know you fought in it. A commanding officer if I remember properly.”

There was only silence coming from behind the partition.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Quite the contrary, Mr. Jameson. I--”

“Chuck.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you’re not going to kill me, then at least you can call me Chuck.”

“Of course, and you may call me Aubrey. Or Winston if you so desire but since we’re on a first name basis Aubrey will do nicely, Chuck. Now where was I? Oh yes, I’ve been asked to tell you about the rest of us. There are 7 billion people on this planet and only 50,000 known that are like you and I.”

“What do you mean?”

“How old would you think I am?”

“I don’t know. About the same age as my great grandson, maybe? He’s about 38.”

“You’re too kind. In truth I’m actually older than you.” I pull over into a parking lot and look back at Chuck in the eyes. I turn on the light in the car so he can get a better look at me. “You know me from somewhere, don’t you?”

“Oh my, God! That’s impossible! I fought alongside you at Pelelieu . You were in that other battalion! How? How?!”

“We’re Immortals, Chuck. You and I are Immortals.”

I get out of the cab and light a cigarette. I take the smoke in my lungs and breathe it out feeling the fire shoot out of my throat as I wait for Chuck to get out of the car.

“You must be hungry.” I say as he looked at me wide eyed and slack jawed. We walk into a diner where we continue our conversation while waiting for our food to arrive.

“What do you mean by immortal? I can’t die?”

“You’re 113 years old, aren’t you? And yet you’re as spry as 65 year old and perhaps still as clever as you were when you were in your 30’s. We have people in hospitals everywhere investigating the possibility of new immortals. We take blood samples and perform tests on them, grueling tests. Normal humans’ blood cells would be destroyed with our tests. Their bodies simply replace them with new cells. Our cells regenerate from the particulate matter, reforming back into itself. That healing factor is what makes us immortal, so to speak.”

“But how are you still young? And how come I’m old?”

“Some immortals have stronger healing factors than others. Take my employers for example: a group of immortals who call themselves The Pantheon. The oldest actually has the appearance of a 12 year old girl. But she’s been around longer than any of us. I prefer the mystery but she claims to be the only one who knows how or why Stonehenge was built. The Pantheon pull the strings of this crazy world, practically run every government in the planet. Because none of them can be killed by any traditional methods, they have often been mistaken as gods. Hence their group’s moniker which, to be honest, is more tongue-in-cheek than anything.”

“This is unbelievable,” Chuck said as the food arrived.

“Immortality sneaks up on you like old age, ironically. Your blood was slow to regenerate but it did eventually. That’s why you stopped aging at a later date than I did. And when they (The Pantheon) found that out they sent me to ask you seeing as how we know each other. Slow healers like you used to be called low immortals but that sounded insulting so we call your lot ‘The Aged’ for obvious reasons. In fact many of us envy you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You lived an entire life without knowing what you are. You never had to hide. Those who loved you didn’t leave you when you didn’t age the way they did. Others never called you a freak.” The enthusiasm in my voice escaped me when I uttered those words. We sat in silence eating the rest of our respective meals.

“If I’m immortal, I can live forever?”

“Not technically. You can still be killed. If I remember back in the war you nearly were. The wounds that would instantly kill other men left you with a scar.”

“On my thigh, yeah. So if that one grenade hadn’t been a dud…?”

“Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Your wife would have gotten those medals instead of you and she’d tell stories of her husband’s heroic dive to save his men from not one but two live grenades.”

I paid the check, despite Chuck’s protestations. After all, we were war buddies doing some catching up and he just got out of the hospital.

“What are you then, Aubrey? If I’m one of ‘The Aged’ and there is ‘The Pantheon’ then where does that put you?”

“I was offered a seat in The Pantheon but turned it down. I was never a managerial type. But to answer your question, they call me a ‘Demi.’”

“A ‘Demi?’”

“As in Demigod. My healing abilities are nowhere near that of anyone in The Pantheon and obviously I didn’t age as much as you did. But I had done some jobs for them that earned me their favor. And I respectfully declined. I’m somewhere in between the gods and the mortals: a demigod.”

I took the wrapped up leftovers and we headed out of the diner.  We walked down two blocks to a dark alley that was dimly lit by a humming floodlight that barely lit an unassuming spot behind a large dumpster.

“Wait here,” I said to Chuck as I walked towards the dumpster. The tall brick walls seemed to insulate the sounds of the city from this narrow pathway. There was a pile of clothe lumped lifelessly by the dumpster and I stooped down to reveal a woman in her 40’s underneath them. She was breathing shallowly and was obviously tired so I just left the food beside her where she could find it when she woke up.

“Who was that?” Chuck asked.

“Just paying old debts,” I respond. I stop at a flower shop on the way back to the taxi and buy two bouquets of flowers.

“Who are those for?” Chuck asked.

“One is for my one true love. I never married again after she died.”

“And the other bouquet?”

“She’s buried at Saint Richard’s.”

“In that case let me pay for those. And can I change them to the daisies?” Chuck said to the man behind the counter. We got our bouquets and headed to the taxi. I drove to the cemetery and we walked to see Chuck’s wife’s plot.

“She was beautiful. You only hear it in the movies but it’s no exaggeration when I tell you that as soon as I laid my eyes on her I knew I was going to marry her. She was already engaged when we met but I knew that that was just a minor setback.” Chuck sighed and looked at the bouquet of daisies before a single tear rolled down his cheek. “I couldn’t afford to buy her flowers back then so whenever I would visit her at the bank where she worked I would pick a flower from some random house and say I picked it just for her. Every day I did that! And that’s how I found out she liked daisies. So every day I’d go to that same house and pluck one daisy to give to her until later that week she was in a bad mood. Boy, you’ve never seen a young woman so angry.”

“What happened?”

“She found out that her fiancée had gotten her then best friend pregnant. She took it out on me at first, yelling and screaming. I gave her the daisy and said I hoped it cheered her up. She had a good cry and hugged me and said it was perfect, the daisy was just perfect.”

“Why’s that?”

“Turns out, she told me, that some jerk kid had been picking at the daisies at her aunt’s house who lives just down the street from where. I didn’t tell her that the daisies I was giving her were her aunt’s until our last anniversary. She just laughed. God, I’ve led a good life. Beautiful wife, wonderful children. Do you have children?”

“When you lived as long as I have, you have many children. But not many of them can I call family.”

“So what’s your guys’ deal? Why so secretive? Why even make this secret society to begin with?”

“At the turn of the 20^th century, more people began to view the world in a more pragmatic, scientific light. There was less need for gods and demigods and much more use for medicines; medicines that can be used, say, to increase a human’s longevity.”

“They did experiments on you?”

“We did it to our own kind in the hopes of extending the lives of those we loved and a select few thought they could develop treatments that would give them power and fortune. Half of us ignored the obvious ethical questions of testing on our own and the other half opposed testing vehemently.”

“What happened?”

“There was in-fighting and war.”

“Which side won?”

I didn’t answer because I wasn’t proud of the side I took.

“I see.”

“We have to live with what we’ve done, some of us feeling guiltier than others about having to kill our own kind. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to kill an Immortal? On the bloodied and battered corpses of my brethren, I helped The Pantheon recreate ourselves so that all of us Immortals had someone to turn to for help: If you needed money, or to get out of trouble with the mafia or government. Had we known about you then, you could have come to us about a liver transplant for your wife.”

He turned to me and punched me in the gut. I fell to my knees. No one has laid a punch on me that hard in long, long time.

“How dare you look through my wife’s records!”

“I was researching you.”

“I don’t care. You leave her out of this, even if she is dead. Knowing you could have saved her is not going to convince me to join you. Do I miss her? Yes. At the time, would I have given my own life to save hers? You’re goddamn right I would have! You said so yourself that none of you are gods! And here you are playing god. If you want to have a network where all of us ‘immortals’ can help each other that’s one thing. But to play favorites with who you can and cannot save is an abuse of power. If I was around I would have picked the losing side. Because at least they were on the right side of the argument.”

“I know that now. And I have to live with the blood of all those people I killed in the name of peace. Every time I say it, it makes less and less sense to me. This was my last job for The Pantheon then I’m on my own. I want to spend a few years repaying debts to those lives I’ve ruined.”

“That homeless woman in the alley?”

“She was the daughter of someone I killed. The trauma of witnessing such brutality at a young age has a lasting impression and I’ve found that my past sins have resulted in a lot of the homeless population in the city.”

“Can you kill me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve lived an entire life not knowing what I was. And now I have to possibly live the hell of watching my great grandkids wither and die before I do. I’ve already lived. I don’t need to keep doing that, especially without my wife. My kids are all grown up with families of their own. I just want it to end, I’ve deserved that.”

While I didn’t agree to be the one who kills him, I give Chuck a name that will lead him to a formula that may eradicate his healing factor long enough for him to pass away as if he were just a mortal. He was right. He had lived a full life and deserved to see it that book close for not only his own sake but the sake of his family who he would have to hide from to keep immortality a secret. I, however, still have my debts to pay. I place the roses on my wife’s grave and head back to the taxi. After all, there are more people to visit today.

Familiar

The floor is cold. No. Wait. It’s my cheek that’s cold but why am I on the floor? I swirl my eyes behind the lids as my arms lethargically crawl to either side of me. When I push myself up off the floor I rub the sleep from my eyes. It’s not a normal kind of sleep. It’s different this time. I sit up and get my bearings. Ah yes, my apartment. But it looks different. The world seems to be draped in its own shadows and everything around me seems to be decaying in a wind I can neither feel nor hear. However I do see the edges of everything flickering about as if they were being eroded by the aforementioned ghost winds. I get to my feet and it’s difficult to stay balanced. The sky, for whatever reason, burns blood red and the clouds look to be running from the sun itself. As I walk begin to walk I feel my feet stick to the floor beneath them and I realize that while I know that this is my apartment I’m not entirely sure who I am.

My first instinct is to look at my hands. They seem familiar and unfamiliar and something seemed to bind to my wrists. I pull the sleeves of my sweater up but there’s nothing there. My hands start to tingle and go numb. My breathing quickens as does my heartbeat. Well that’s disconcerting as well. My lungs fill with breath but it doesn’t feel as if I’m breathing. I can feel my heart beating against my chest, the blood pulsating through my veins as my temples expand and contract in a panicked rhythm but I don’t feel as if it’s my own heart pumping. My fingertips grow cold and it feels as if the bones within my hand burn like coal smoldering in its own ashes. I curl my fingers into a tight fist but the invisible binding on my arms just dig in deeper and squeeze tighter. My mouth opens as my eyes shut and I hope to scream but before I can a whisper catches my attention.

“Return,” the voice says. I could have sworn it was a voice that whispered directly in my ear but as I turn there is no one there. My cheek, the one that lay flat on the ground, grows cold. A dull pressure scratches at the opposite cheek. I can feel my scalp itch as something scratches at it. I try to swipe but there is nothing to swipe at.

I see something shimmering on the coffee table and I walk towards it. The object is a picture frame and the photograph within has two people in it. One of them is me only I had much longer hair. And the other is a man. He’s quite handsome but I can’t quite place—ARGH! The binding on my wrists dig in deeper and a dull pain drills deep in my chest driving down to my gut. I feel claws begin to dig at my palms. My reflexes wave my hands in a vain attempt to shake whatever is scratching at me. But I’m not entirely sure if the scratching was entirely malicious which both scares and reassures me.

The tip of my index finger feels cold but not like before. It’s as if some object was barely being touched against it; a ring, perhaps? But I don’t see a ring. I can somehow hear it. Perhaps if I put my finger to my ear I can—now I can’t breathe! The pressure around my neck is tightening and my throat is near collapse. It’s as if I only have enough energy to either breath or fight against this force choking the life out of me. My temples begin to ache. My ears and the tip of my nose burn as the rest of my head starts to go numb. And my eyes feel as if they are about to pop out of their sockets when all of a sudden I hear the whisper again.

“Not time yet,” the voice whispers as I feel four cushioned but strong prongs jolt hard upon my chest. The impact of whatever that was released the hold from me neck. My throat was very tender as I tried to catch my breath.

“Who are you?” I ask the voice. There is no response. I start coughing violently, my lungs still recuperating from whatever it was that was choking me. I walk to the kitchen and get some water. I know the liquid is pouring down my throat but I can barely feel it. It’s almost as if I’m in some sort of a dream. Am in a dream? “Is that what this is? If it’s a bad dream I want to wake up now!”

“Kara!” That voice calls out to me. I recognize the voice but just barely. Who is it? My friend? The man in the picture? A brother, perhaps? I can’t believe I’m forgetting so much of who I am. This is ridiculous. I want to cry but first I have to get out of here.

“Am I Kara?”

“If you can hear me Kara, I’m going to need you to return.”

“Return where? How?”

“I promise it won’t end like this!”

“Who is that? Hello?”

“I know you can hear me. I can’t hear you but I know you can hear me!” There was another gentle scratch on my cheek. The other grew colder again. Finally, I’m getting some answers! “This is very important but you need to get up!”

“I don’t know how to! Tell me how to get out of here!”

Suddenly I lose grip of the glass of water in my hand. It slips and shatters on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. I lean back and close my eyes and remember seeing the man in the picture grabbing me by the arms and squeezing. I gasp and open my eyes gripping my fists tightly realizing that a knife had materialized in my hand. I fall to my knees as if being pulled by an unnatural swell in gravity right where I was standing and I can remember being thrown to the ground by that mysterious man. I remember his name is Peter.

Peter approaches me in what can only be described as a memory that I, for whatever reason, am being forced to recall. He wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes as hard as he can. Remembering the knife in my hand I swing as hard as I can at… my husband. Peter is my husband. I keep the knife between him and me but he raises a hand at me anyway and swings before I can swipe the blade at him. I fall to the ground, dropping the knife as my cheek, the one that kept growing cold, fell onto the ground.

“Get up! Now!” The voice implores. “Now! NOW! NOW! MMMEEEE-OOOWWWW!” The pokes and prods of my cat manage to finally wake me up. I can’t help but cry. I feel the hot tears streaming down the side of my face realizing that the man that was to be my husband nearly killed me.

I gasp and cough violently as the world of shadows and blood disappear like a nightmare. I taste blood in my mouth and my cheek, once cold, is now tender and bruised. My chest rises and falls as I breathe in slowly unsure if I should feel horrified or relieved. I look at my hand still on the floor. My wedding ring still dangles from the edge of it. I must have tried to unconsciously pick it up again and only managed to get it on to my fingertip.

My cat stares at me and places a paw on my leg as I sit up. It is the same cushioned paw that swiped at my hair and pushed against my cheek. Somehow she knew to jump on me to get my attention. She then curls up against my leg and she purrs as I stroke her fur. I pick up the ring with my free hand and look at the diamond with such disdain and disgust that I throw it back on the floor before finally getting up to call the police.