After Death (20 page)

He slowly surveyed the hallway around him. The off-white walls seemed as they always did, the tile floors gleamed faintly as they should. There ahead of him was even the pile of broken glass from the picture he’d broken and his blood in dark swatches across it.

Without having any control of his movement, his body abruptly swung horizontal and he floated down towards the glass and the dried blood on the floor, the bizarre movement completely effortless.

There
, he thought,
that confirms it — I’m definitely dreaming.
This movement would only be possible in space — and I’m definitely not in space.

For a split second anxiety rattled through him —
You need to wake up! You don’t know what time it is — What if you get caught here?
But then the relaxed acquiescence of sleep again took over and he continued with the present scenario without further struggle.

He lowered further until he was only inches away now, his face almost touching the bloody glass. He marveled that he had no horrific reaction to the blood that completely filled his vision at such close range — Red from wall to wall —
Completely red — blood red! I must be dreaming, I am definitely dreaming
.

It occurred to him that perhaps he had no fear because his actions were now no longer of his own volition — He was just a puppet — and although he usually craved and
required
control, along with this lack of control there was also a sense of calm and no distaste at the actions he would have normally found so repugnant. He was immune in this state, wrapped in a numbing cocoon of remoteness — whatever happened, he was like a spectator — He felt neither joy nor pain, he felt nothing — even when his tongue flicked out of its own accord and began licking up his own dried blood on the hard edges of the glass.

When he had lapped it clean, he again, without any control at all, began to drift only inches above the floor in his current horizontal position like an astronaut examining the surface of a new world below. His progress slowed only to descend on the next blood droplets — and each time he hungrily lapped up the remnants, his feelings totally numb to the disgusting actions he was taking but had no control over.

He lifted his arm once again before his eyes and found that it was now transparent and that there was no watch. This discovery would have normally caused instant fear — panic. But in his current state he stared at the frail outline of an old thin wrist that was indistinct and shadowy and simply thought
What is this? — Who am I?

Even when he noticed the dirty fingernails at the end of the aged hand and saw that the arm and hand were growing more distinct — the blood that he had just ingested moving through transparent veins that were even now growing more solid, he had little emotional reaction.

And then, slowly, like an anesthetic wearing off — the numbness he had thus far felt began to ebb. Feelings, realizations, and finally the reactions of dread and panic began to take hold but there was nothing he could do to stop the actions of — of —

He could barely allow his mind to bring up the name but there was no doubt who was responsible for what he was seeing and doing, whose point of view he now seemed, against his will, to embody —

Eli!

The hand held before his face was now completely solid, old and wrinkled, the fingers and dirty nails all too familiar. He tried to lower the hand, tried to exert his will with as much force as he could manage. It did nothing — The hand instead reached down and picked up a piece of jagged glass from the top of the pile on the floor and turned it in the air as if examining it minutely to see which edge would be sharpest — and most lethal.

The floating position altered and Frank found himself returned to a standing position, albeit without any feeling beneath his feet and still without control of his movements.

He was a grotesque puppet with ragged glass in his hand that walked/floated down the hall and around the corner — each moment anxiety growing at his possible destination.

His nerves jangled and jolted with each forward step he took trapped inside this disgusting form.
Stop!
He cried out soundlessly.
Please stop now!

But he that was in control did not stop. Pleas for mercy had rarely met such a deaf recipient.

He moved inexorably forward and as he rounded another corner, Frank recognized the West wing and Lidia’s door coming into view.
Stop! You must STOP!

The aged arm reached out and opened her door.

Lidia lay sleeping tucked tightly in her bed, protective rails on each side. Her wheelchair was folded neatly against one wall.

Frank was overwhelmed by his helplessness. There was nothing he could do to stop this monster in his progression. And then a thought hit him:
Wake up!
Maybe if I
wake up, this will all be over!

But as much as he tried, he could not wake up — and so the nightmare continued.

He closed in on Lidia in her bed, soundlessly... effortlessly. She repeated her phrase, mumbling it over and over — even in her sleep.

“…Pick me up at ten o’clock, pick me up at ten o’clock…”

His shadow fell over her and her eyes fluttered open. For the first time in many years her mumbling abruptly
stopped
as her eyes went wide.

It happened so quickly, Frank could barely register the action — There was a flash of movement — his own yet not his own — She had no time to scream — no time to do anything as the air was stopped in her throat by his grotesque right hand that clamped around her thin neck and squeezed with inhuman strength. Her pallor segued from red to blue and he lifted her left arm into the air with his other hand, then stretched strong fingers upwards from her neck and turned her quivering face towards a mirror in the corner.

For a few seconds Frank
felt
a vile intent pass through him —
He knew what Eli was thinking — He knew his purpose in these abhorrent actions!
She was to see herself throttled in the vice grip of this shadowy grinning figure — an indistinct and not yet fully solid Eli!
And Frank was to see her demise as well — through Eli’s eyes
!

Eli stared at himself in the reflection and Frank stared as well, equally mesmerized —
He was looking at Eli from inside Eli himself! — Every crease, every unmasked hostile searing gleam was there for Frank to plainly see just as plainly as he could see the furniture behind Lidia showing
through
his reflection!
The effect sent Frank’s mind numb with shock…
Eli had returned as promised — even if it were in this incomplete form and in this dream state or whatever this was — He HAD returned!

Frank’s dulled wits tried to absorb what he was seeing… But there was no time. Another swift movement and Eli ripped the piece of glass across the soft tendons of Lidia’s raised wrist, blood spraying into the air and across the sheets.

She struggled to avoid watching herself in the mirror as her life drained away and Frank struggled along with her — not wanting to see this ghastly sight — not wanting to be party to any of this — but Eli held firm, he would not let her alter her direct gaze from their reflections nor would he allow Frank to do anything other than continue to watch the whole miserable scene, his gaze as fixed as Lidia’s — watching it all through Eli’s unwavering, merciless, and utterly resolute eyes…

Eli gloated and underwent an almost orgasmic shudder — This show was a paramount pleasure for him — all the more at having not one captive witness but
two.
Frank again felt that synchronization of emotions. Against his will he felt the surging tide of glee, euphoria,
ecstasy
…

Lidia went limp, the sheets saturated with blood and Frank tried again to shut out the scene — but found he had no eyelids to close… Eli was in complete control.

Eli bent towards the flowing wrist that he still held clamped in one hand and Frank was forced to bend with him. This time Frank was anything but numb — every nerve resisted, his head thumped in agony, his nostrils filled with the smell of death and the glistening of sinew and the deep red of fresh blood panoramically filled his vision. Internally he flailed and protested with the might of the insane — the revulsion was overpowering — but it was of no use…

As Eli began to lap at the mayhem like a thirsty dog and the ghastly sounds of slurping filled the air — Frank could
taste
the blood and
feel
a change occurring within him — a bizarre transformation — an increasing awareness of feeling and sensation… He was separating from the shadows and entering the ever-sharpening real world —

He was coming to life!

It was beyond Frank’s ability to endure — the encompassing smell of death, the aftertaste of human blood in his mouth that was becoming more defined… He felt himself tumble and separate from these horrors — He knew on some deep level what was happening — he was going into toxic shock and he welcomed it, no matter what the outcome — his consciousness was mercifully leaving before he would have to experience more… and he tumbled down and down, into a bottomless well of darkness that eliminated the horrors of all sensations… until there was only nothingness…

***

When Frank awoke, he was back in the chair before Rachel’s door and except for a pounding headache, he was as relieved as he had ever been in his life that it had all been a dream. Ghastly, sickening — but still just a dream... Relief surged through him — It had all been so real — so unbelievably horrific!
Thank God!
, he thought, and at such a stressful moment, he actually found that his belief in a higher being was renewed and the thanks he was giving for his own protection and safety was well placed.
Thank God!

And then he looked down.

His clothes were soaked with fresh blood — as were his hands, his shoes —
Everything
. There was almost no part that wasn’t awash in red. He gasped — his mind locked for a second then raced —
What had happened! Who’s blood was this! It couldn’t have been real!

He held back a wave of nausea as he noticed a thick, messy trail of blood leading away from where he sat, down the hall, and around the corner.

His blood-splattered watch caught a ray of light through the blinds as though flashing an emergency beacon — It was 5:42 AM —
5:42 AM! The staff would be here soon — They would make their own conclusions — He would go to jail for the rest of his life!

He came close to hyperventilating at the disgusting mess he was —
Blood everywhere! — Blood on everything!

He ran for the nearest bathroom —
Please let it be open!
He had no plan other than he had to get this mess off — he was contaminated — it was in the creases of his knuckles, under his nails, stuck in clumps to the hair on his arms, pulling in weighted saturation at his shirt-sleeves, his pants —
Off! Get it off! Get it off!

The bathroom glared with harsh fluorescent light and he ran immediately to the sink and ran the water at full force — Splashing, scrubbing, scraping — frantically trying to remove the disgust of… of…
He would not allow himself to think of it — He must stay detached — Get it done and get out — Must not think of all the —

He put his head under the tap and the sink ran red. He kept at it — Splash, scrub, scrape — Splash, scrub, scrape — He would not look at his reflection — Not yet — Not until he was himself again — Clean — Free of — Free of —

Splash, scrub, scrape — repeat — splash, scrub, scrape — He must be clean, must be clean —

He finally risked a glance — Good — Wet, disheveled — Very pale and scared — but clean.

He gulped down some faucet water — His throat was dry from hysteria. He glanced back in the mirror.

It was back! — as though it had never been removed! — He hadn’t risked a look at his face until now but it was across his chin, splashed across his mouth — down his neck — as though he were a blood-thirsty beast — as though he’d been feeding on human flesh —
Blood everywhere!

Without thinking he blindly yelled at the one responsible and his voice resounded thunderously off the hard bathroom tile:

“ELI!!!”

Blood! Disgusting, thick, grotesque BLOOD!

He couldn’t stop his thoughts from repeating this time. He began scrubbing, splashing, scraping with renewed fervor —
I must get it off! GET IT OFF! I must get it off! GET IT OFF!

***

By the time he left the bathroom, exhausted but skin finally clean once more and clothes as clean as he could get them, he knew that too much time had passed — He was cutting it too close — There was no way to clean up all the other mess — The blood trail, the chairs, the bloody glass from the broken picture… The mess would point directly to him but now he’d be lucky to get out without being seen. He would have to hope that providence would protect him. But before he could leave, he needed to know if his nightmare had been as he’d witnessed. It was horrible — beyond belief — and he trembled with the thought of it — but he needed know…
He had to…

He glanced down at his arms and hands, raw and irritated with so much scrubbing but stain-free. His clothes were so wet, he looked like he’d been swimming — in something that stained his clothes pink and in some places, red. He needed to hurry — there wasn’t much time…