The Last World (2 page)

Horace didn’t respond
. He hadn’t seen anyone either, but what could they expect to see in the fraction of time they had? Still, if someone was hurt… he shook those thoughts from his mind until he reached the car, now sitting diagonally with its backend pushed off of the road. The car’s windows were open and it was easy to see it was empty and the lack of blood on the ground meant no one was under the car.
Thank God!

Still huffing from the unexpected exercise, Steve slowed to a walk
before resting a hand on the Thunderbird’s hood. “Any… sign… of them?”

Horace shook his head
, but his eyes continued to survey the surrounding area. “Call the police and help me look around.”

With shaking hands
, Steve dialed 9-1-1 and listened to the recorded message telling him the call couldn’t be connected. He looked at the readout and the lack of bars, meaning there wasn’t a signal.

“Any luck?”

Steve looked up. Horace was thirty feet away in the trees and brush across the two lane street. Steve shook his head. “There’s no signal.”

Horace nodded, he hadn’t thought of that but it made sense. He looked around him
.
Where had the car’s owner gone?
He hadn’t been walking back to town or they would’ve seen him.
But then
w
here?

Chapter 3

Franklin Bowen paused in mid-stride a few miles from where he left his car. He wasn’t following the road as he thought he should’ve been. Instead he was in the middle of nowhere with no landmarks he could use as a guide. Everything around him was a bright white, intense to the point of being blinding
, yet he didn’t have to squint.
Where am I?

He heard the crash, felt it as though he was there but he wasn’t. He felt someone next to him without seeing him. The man he met by the field was with him and still dressed in a silver tunic and pants with white trim around his neck. Somehow he looked different
, but Franklin couldn’t put his finger on what.

“It is time. Remember what I told you.”
Tanok didn’t look at him, and that was fine by Franklin. He found something unnerving about looking into those dark eyes.

Franklin’s face twisted with uncertainty. The only thing he remembered being told was Tanok’s name. He said as much
, earning a shake of the man’s head and a friendly pat on his shoulder like one would do to a dog.

“
You’ll know when and what to do.”

Without another word Tanok disappeared, melting into the surrounding whiteness. In the blink of an eye
, Franklin woke in the field where he tripped over his tire iron. He pushed himself into a sitting position and felt a fresh jolt of pain up his back and neck. A stream of blood trickled from his mouth where he bit down on his tongue trying to keep the pain at bay. A strangled cry erupted from him until the pain disappeared seconds later. By then he heard the grains rustling and what sounded like someone coming close to him.

Did he want to be found? The question flashed through his mind like a
high-powered neon sign. He shook off the doubt and dread threatening to paralyze him. He needed help, a doctor in a hospital to tell him what’s wrong. Didn’t he? When the face appeared above him, he let out a shriek, trying to avoid being trampled by the large man.

*****

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Steve took the initiative when he heard the strangled cry. It wasn’t that he didn’t have goals or wasn‘t a leader, he just never had to display either trait. His mother all but forgot about him when he turned fourteen, saying her little boy didn’t need her anymore. As for his father, well, Fulton Drake threw money at him. It was far easier for him to allow Stephen to buy what he wanted than deal with any potential tantrums. Strange as that approach was, Thurston managed to keep a stranglehold on Steve’s accounts and other necessities. In his heart, Thurston hoped his son would grow into an independent person on his own. If not… then he didn’t like the other options.

Knowing his friend’s history, Horace was more than surprised at how fast Steve tore through the field. Not being a slouch himself physically, Horace barely made it to the edge of the road when Steve stopped. He swallowed hard, hoping everything was alright
, but preparing himself for the worst.

Steve stopped before he stepped on or tripped over the stranger sitting in the field. For the briefest of moments, he teetered on the mental edge he drew between them. His excess bulk threatened to betray him
, but in the end he regained his balance. Not very graceful but better than the alternative.

Having
won his battle against momentum he bent over, offering his hand to the stranger. “Sorry about that. I’m Stephen, my friends call me Steve.”

Franklin watched him for a moment not sure what to do. Finally, he took the offered hand. “Franklin Bowen.” He barely got his last name out before he was lifted from his position and to his feet with an ease he didn’t think possible
by the larger man.

“There you go. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Steve’s smiled faded somewhat
. “Sorry about your car.”

My car?
Franklin’s mind raced to grasp the meaning of what he heard. When his eyes turned toward the road and he saw the truck and his mangled car, he screamed. “My Car! Damn it!” Franklin grabbed both sides of his head in an effort to keep from losing his temper.

“Don’t let the visiting Devil win
, Frankie.” His mother’s voice was crisp and clear in his mind’s ear. He had no intention of doing so even before hearing her voice. Franklin’s mind was full of vague images, some with a man named Tanok and others involving his car, including him striking it head first.

“My fault.” Franklin’s voice was lower than a whisper.

“Don’t worry. Me and my dad’ll take care of everything.”             

Franklin heard
Steve and nodded. He was trying to make sense out of what he remembered. Nothing was making any sense to him. Why had he been in the field?

Another voice spoke from just ahead
. “Are you alright?”

Where’d you come from?
Franklin wanted to ask but didn’t, although he felt he was deserving of some answers. After a brief pause, he nodded. “Yeah… I finished changing my tire and… threw my tire iron out here?” He finished the final portion as a question, as he didn’t know or trust his memories.

Steve looked around him
, then bent over. When he stood, he had the tire iron in his hand. “Guess you tripped over this and hit your head.”

Franklin stood still for a moment, gazing at the tire iron. “That’s not right. I… took it back to my car. The explosion…”

Horace looked from Franklin to Steve then back again.
He must‘ve really hit his head good.
“What explosion?” What could it hurt to humor the man?

“Maybe it was the meteor I saw.” Steve’s face lit up with excitement.

Franklin looked at both of them before setting his gaze on Steve. “Meteor?”

“Yeah,
it was a white streak before it hit. I saw it.”

Horace motioned behind Steve to the untouched field. “And where was that?” The question caused the pair to remain silent for a minute
, giving Horace the chance to fully organize his thoughts. “C’mon. We’d better get you to a doctor.”

Franklin looked at him and nodded. “I think… that’s wise.”

“In
what
?” Steve threw his hand out. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we had an accident and our phones aren’t working.”

Horace paused
. “Help me push his car off the road so no one else hits it. We’ll take your truck.”

“My truck? But…” Steve began pleading his case.

“It can still be driven. We’ll come back with the police if we have to.” Horace stepped toward Franklin. “Do you need any help… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, it’s Franklin Bowen.
”

“Franklin, this is Horace Foster. He’s a good guy if you can stand the bullshit.” Steve smiled following his introduction. It was his way of fighting back for having his thunder stolen.

Franklin nodded
. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” As he began to follow the one named Horace he realized Steve was a key. For what he didn’t know.

*****

The Thunderbird proved to be easy to move. Despite the hellaciousness of the crash, it was still drivable with the front end crushed and mangled. Still, Horace felt it wise for the three of them to remain together. Their passenger seemed the non-violent sort, but with his obvious head injury he could have a seizure, amorism, or even a burst of energy he couldn’t control.

Horace remembered seeing an episode on a science channel discussing the varying aspects of head injuries. None of them sounded very pleasant to experience or deal with as an outside party. With those shows and his own fears in mind, Horace took his seat in the front with Franklin in the back. Not an ideal s
eating plan by any means, but it’d keep the man they found from trying to open the door or grab the steering wheel in a sudden act of suicide. Of course, he could lean forward and rip their eyes out but Horace did his best to
not
visualize that image.

Franklin hadn’t put up a fuss about being in the back
. In fact, he welcomed it, or so it seemed to Horace. Every so often Horace glanced back to check on him, and each time Franklin said he was fine. Even the confused look in his eyes went away.
It was because he hit his head,
Horace reasoned. S
uch a thing was liable to screw up anyone’s mind.

Steve was enjoying himself. His earlier fear over killing someone in the accident was long forgotten. His focus was
on helping their new friend get the help he needed. Every so often he’d check the rearview mirror to see if Franklin was alright. Horace’s questions weren’t enough for him since Steve was the type that needed to
see
something to believe in it. It was a trait he developed when he learned Santa Clause didn’t exist. Since that day twelve years earlier, he never believed what someone told him except for Horace. Steve trusted his friend more than anyone else, and he’d been in a few altercations defending him.

“Where’re you from? Horace and me are born and raised in Tarken Heights.” Steve’s voice was pleasant without the worry Horace’s carried.

It took Franklin a moment to realize he was being spoken to. After a pause, he shrugged. “Settler’s Grove. I was heading upstate when my tire blew and you found me.”
A nice way to say you hit my car, asshole.
He wanted to lash out, but something held him back. He knew he shouldn’t blame them. After all, he did leave his car in the middle of the road. Why did he do that? The answer remained just outside of his reach.

Steve gave a sheepish look to him from the corner of his eye. “Yeah…
Sorry about that. Good thing it happened, though. I mean… so you don’t have to drive with that bump on your head.”

Horace winced and wanted to palm his head. Steve meant well, he just wasn’t
well-spoken at times. To his surprise, their passenger nodded his understanding.

“I appreciate your help.” Franklin paused before continuing. “My insurance is up to date
, so it shouldn’t cause you any problems.” Was he actually saying this?
My God, I must‘ve hit my head harder than I thought!

Steve smiled
, feeling relieved. “That’s good to hear but I’m not worried. You’re an all right fellow, Frank.”

Frank?
Of all the names he could’ve been called, it had to be the one he hated most. Somehow, and for reasons he didn’t understand why, he smiled. With nothing more to say, Franklin closed his eyes. He needed rest and it provided the perfect excuse to not have to listen to them for awhile. He didn’t hate them, he was just tired.

What’s this place? Where am I?
As before, Franklin found himself surrounded by a brilliant white light without being blinded when he closed his eyes. He strode forward, each step was a gentle test for footing, which he was surprised to find was firm. He paused after his third step and, though he tried as hard as he could, he couldn’t remember if he tried this in his previous dream. Was this a dream? And if so, could he really remember what happened to him previously? He wanted to ask, but there was no one to answer. He turned in a circle, looking everywhere he could, but to no avail. Only the white vastness greeted his searching eyes.

He fought back the panic he felt growing inside of him
, but it was replaced by anger. It was so primal and strengthening in its power that he looked to it as an old friend, not some visiting devil. No, his mom misunderstood when she talked about it. It was a source of strength, not the disease she worked to convince him of throughout his life.

The power of his memory struck him like a blow to the stomach. The strength and power he was so sure of seconds before abandoned him
, but not his anger. No, that would be with him for all eternity. To steady himself, he wrapped the anger around him like a shroud and continued his walk. Whether for minutes, hours, or days he continued on, protected against the unknown. Time had no meaning where he was, so he didn’t attempt to keep track. Instead, he prepared himself for what lay ahead, for now he could see something in the void. The dark spec grew in size until it nearly engulfed him. At its edge, he paused and gazed in wonder at the cosmos.

Compared to the brightness of his surroundings
, Franklin was surprised at the clarity of the image greeting him. He found himself on a precipice of sorts but he didn’t fear floating.
Am I dead? Is this what God sees?

“This is where we come from. A place too distant for Earthen eyes
, but not distant enough to avoid.”

The voice caught Franklin by surprise but he didn’t startle. He felt… curious.

Looking at the familiar man crouching off to the side, Franklin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

Tanok stood from his crouch without effort.
“There is no surprise in that.”

Franklin nodded, his anger was growing again.
What would happen if I lost my temper here?
“Of course not, since you always come when I don’t need you.”