Dying pains

He coughed. His throat filled with something repulsive. He almost choked.

There was a clinging sound ringing in his ears, and a rhythmic sound he couldn’t recognize.

He tried to move, but had no success. His hands and legs felt numb and cold. His head hurt.

He heard people speaking above him. “Poor guy,” one of them said. “Pence really is an ingrate for shooting this guy.”

“Don’t let him hear it,” said the other. “Besides, you don’t know how much of an asshole this one was. He always looked down on the rest of us.”

“Wasn’t he the one who killed everyone Rick really wanted dead?”

“Yeah, and that’s why the boss killed him. He’s scared, don’t you get it? He thinks this guy was gonna take over the business after this last stunt.”

Adam remembered. He was shot. He turned his neck around, breathing deeply of the air full of dirt and dust. He looked around. He could only see from one eye; the other wasn’t opening. He was inside of a grave. They were burying him.

He tried to move again, and managed to lift himself slightly. He had a mild headache.

Why wasn’t he dead?

“Hey, is he moving?”

“He was shot in the head.” Someone gave a sharp laughter. “Of course he isn’t moving.”

But Adam was moving. He tried to stand, grimacing, arms and legs feeling numb. He held to the ledge of the grave and looked up.

His gravediggers realized that he was alive and had some of the most fantastical faces Adam had ever seen.

“Shit, he’s up,” one of them stated the obvious.

Adam reached for his gun. He found nothing. They had taken it.

“Hey, what do we do?”

“Hell, if I know. How is he even up?”

Adam tried to lift himself from the grave, but failed. His numb arms just didn’t have the strength.

One of the gravediggers gripped his shovel. He hesitated, then lifted his shovel and smashed Adam’s face.

Adam stumbled back against the other side of the grave. He tasted blood, and the pain felt like riding a strange high.

The gravedigger prepared for another strike; he intended to finish the job he was given one way or another. Before he could, Adam gripped the fabric of his pants and pulled. The man slipped and fell in a heap in the grave, together with Adam. The two entangled in the hole as Adam tried to wrestle the shovel from his hands.

“Shit, Kyle!”

Weak as he felt, Adam somehow managed to keep the gravedigger down. He pushed the handle of the shovel against the man’s neck trying to choke him.

Adam heard the cocking of a pistol, and rapidly threw himself from above the other man. He heard five shots. He felt two spikes of pain, one on his leg and one on his torso. Blood splattered from the head of the other man in that grave.

“Shit!” the man above swore.

The pain was intense. Adam gnashed his teeth, trying to contain a whimper, then, like a heavenly balm, the pain faded.

Without delay Adam grabbed the shovel from the nerveless fingers of the dead man and stood, knowing there could be no delay as his opponent had a gun. A surprised gasp escaped the other man’s mouth as Adam thrust the tip of the shovel in his neck.

The man fell backward.

With that done, Adam climbed out of the grave, arms shaking slightly. The numbness was fading; he could feel them better now.

The downed man was still thrashing on the ground, scratching his smashed throat. His weapon lay beside him.

Adam put him out of his misery with the shovel and took his gun. No reason to waste bullets.

After the job was done, Adam breathed deeply. He coughed a ball of phlegm and dirt.

He checked his wounds. A bullet fell out from under of his shirt, the wound it had made closed, though a patch of blood dirtied his already very dirty shirt. He touched his forehead, touching where the bullet had pierced his brain. He felt his skin and flesh, no hole, no wound. He scratched a crust of hardened blood and gore covering his left eye. His sight was somewhat blurry. He had lost his glasses.

He took a bullet to the head, but was alive, and there was no wound. Adam felt crazy. He smelled himself. The smell of dreams, from when the rift opened, hadn’t left him, but had faded considerably since them. Now, however, the smell was strong again. A more mundane smell also stuck to him. The smell of dirt and gore.

He took his shirt off, and put on the shirt of the dead man. He wasn’t clean, but it was better now. That shirt had been too disgusting.

While taking the dead man’s shirt, he found his own pistol and knife. The filthy thief. He also checked the grave for his glasses but they weren’t there.

He thought for a bit and decided to also trade trousers with the corpse. With that done, he walked down the obvious path back to Pence’s house.

§

The beer he had dropped was still spilt on the porch. It seemed like an insignificant detail to fixate upon, but it filled him with hatred. It also told Adam not much time had passed.

He opened the door, and entered.

He heard the sounds of tapping a table and grunts coming from a room to the left, through a doorway farther down the corridor. To his right, a room over, someone was speaking loudly, probably on a phone as there was no answering voice.

“Kyle? Dan?” someone called from the room to his left as Adam approached. Leaning against the wall, Adam showed himself in the doorway.

There were three of them. Two were engrossed in the cards. One, the speaker, was staring at him. His eyes widened in surprise. He stood in a panic, reaching for his gun; but before he could lift it, Adam shot him.

The other two jerked away from the falling man, turning toward Adam with a start. Adam shot them as well before they could put up a fight.

He heard the heavy footsteps of another man running down the hall. He pointed his gun and waited.

Another man appeared. His face blanched when he realized the gun. He was still holding his cellphone with someone shouting from the other side.

“What was that?” came the questioning voice of Richard Pencer from the cellphone.

Adam shot.

He missed.

The man let go of the phone, tackled him to the floor and tried to choke him.

Adam felt disoriented. For a moment his vision darkened. Then everything alighted with spectacular clarity. He grabbed the man above him by his collar and pushed him against the wall.

They grappled, hitting against each other with arms and legs. Adam pulled out the knife and stabbed his belly.

The man’s face twisted in pain.

Adam stood above him as his victim stared with wide-eyed terror at the wound. Blood was spilling from his stomach. He pressed against the wound, but couldn’t even cover it. He started to hyperventilate. His face grew pale. He moaned. He dropped with a thud soon after, losing consciousness.

The knife felt hot in Adam’s hands. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to the dying man before him. “Why,” he lamented, “does this keeps happening?”

His heart was beating wildly at what had just happened.

“What is happening?” Pence asked on the other side of the cellphone, fallen on the floor.

Adam picked it up. “Hello Pence.”

A silence followed, then a simple question, “Adam?”

“Back from the grave,” Adam said.

The line cut. Feeling somewhat aggravated, somewhat depressed, Adam threw the phone angrily at the pool of blood gushing out of the corpse.

He looked around outside the house and did not find Mary’s car. The bastard actually took his car. He also hadn’t found his cellphone so Pence must have taken it.

Should he call a taxi? He looked down on himself, dirty and smelly, looking like a homeless bun. He headed back inside and took a shower.

He felt morbid about the way he wasn’t freaking out about the people he just murdered in cold blood. He was angry, he knew, and he wanted to kill them. But there he was, taking a shower while their corpses bled nearby as if it was the most natural thing in the world. There must be something wrong with him.

After showering and cleaning his clothes as best as he could with only water, Adam wondered what he should do about the bodies and the obvious signs he was there.

He also realized Mary was in potential danger. He took the gruesome cellphone he had thrown on the floor, but it was password protected. He searched for the landline but there wasn’t one installed.

He approached the corpse on the corridor. It lay slumped against the wall; its head cocked toward the floor in what would have been an uncomfortable pose had the man been alive.

Almost without thinking, Adam decided to try something. He pulled out the knife and touched it against the blood, willing it to burn. A small flame surged, then consumed the blood like it was gasoline.

Adam reeled away as the pyre of flame surged and threatened to consume the corridor. He walked to the other room, where the other bodies were still lying in the pool of their own blood and did the same to them.

He left the house walking after setting the blood and the corpses on fire.

He wondered if the charred remains of whoever these unlucky men were would be found, or if the fire would turn even them to dust. But it didn’t matter in the end. The street he was in was empty. He wondered if the police would find out it was him who did this.

After having walked a considerable distance, he looked behind, feeling satisfied as smoke began curl upward.

§

There was snow covering the street. Not enough to impede traffic yet, but it could become like that soon.

It took Adam forty minutes to reach a bustling part of town. He looked around, wondering where he was. People were walking down the streets. Cars were running. He reached a lane with several stores.

Some people were pointing toward the column of smoke burning in the distance, almost invisible from where they were. Adam took a last look at it and continued on his way. He looked around for a taxi but found none. What else could he do? It was not like he could just walk back to the mansion.

He found instead the comic book shop, the same one he had come to before. He hesitated for a bit, but figured wasting a few minutes wouldn’t matter.

Again the bell rang when the door opened and the vendor turned to him, placidly, then turned away, disinterested. There were two other customers, both browsing the shop, ignoring him.

He asked the vendor about the next issue and was pointed to it.

Adam looked through the volumes and soon found what he wanted.

“Adam?”

The voice was unfamiliar, and the plain young man without a nose ring and with a perfectly normal haircut who spoke with a timid, uncertain gaze did not spring any new memories.

The two looked at each other for a moment, then the young man’s eyes dropped to the comic Adam held and he smirked.

At that moment, Adam recognized him. “Paul.”

“Me,” he said, nodding. “Still reading that spider-man, aren’t you?” His smirk intensified.

“I’d at least like to know how it ends.”

“Badly.” He nodded to himself. “Very badly. But you know what they say, the journey is the best part. Enjoying the story?”

“I guess.”

“The answer of the unconvinced.”

“Who says the journey is the best part, anyway?”

“No idea.” Paul looked him up and down. “You seem a little underdressed.” He looked through the glass doors at the outside. “The weather isn’t very nice recently.”

Adam snorted. “I guess.” He had a sudden good idea. “Can you lend me your phone? I lost mine. I’m just going to call my wife and a taxi.”

“Ok.” Paul took the phone out, but before handing it took another look at Adam. “Were you robbed?”

“Yes,” Adam said, truthfully.

Adam punched the number and soon heard a muffled, “hello?” in Mary’s melodic voice.

“It’s Adam,” he said. “I’m talking through a borrowed phone.” He looked at Paul and decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention Pence. “I’ve been robbed.”

“Robbed?” she asked, incredulously. “You can just—wait you’re speaking with someone else’s phone?”

“Yes, a guy I met at the comic book store.”

“You’re at a comic book store?”

“Yes.”

A heavy sigh sounded from the other side. “What are you doing in a comic book store?”

He decided to cut the conversation short. “Look Mary, they took your car, so I’ll take a taxi and meet you in the mansion, and take care to not speak with anyone who looks like a criminal. We need to talk.”

She paused. “Ok, I get it. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call ended. “What’s the taxi’s phone number?” he asked.

“No idea,” Paul said. “But relax. I’ll take you.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “You’ll take me?”

“Yeah,” Paul continued, smiling. “I have a car and free time. You know, helping each other in our time of need and all that.”

Adam thought for a moment, and decided that it would be faster this way. “Thank you.”

He bought the comic, and then followed Paul to his car. It was a small and new red car. It looked very conspicuous in the snow, like a drop of blood.

Soon, they were on their way.

Snow was fluttering down. The plume of smoke continued to rise in the distance.

Adam shivered when Paul turned on the heater as if his body just realized how cold it was.

“You should have dressed better,” Paul said. He stepped on the accelerator and soon they were on their way. “It’s the mansion of the old Good isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Adam said, then with an odd glance, he asked, “you know where it is?”

Paul chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked again at Adam. “I never realized before but you and Oliver look a lot alike.”

“Yeah, I was told that a lot.”

Adam slumped on his seat, feeling troubled about his life. He had just been betrayed by what appeared to be his partner in crime and murdered several men.

“Lots of strange things happening around this town lately,” Paul muttered.

“Strange things happen every day everywhere.” Adam looked out the window at the passersby and store fronts. Snow was beginning to accumulate again.

“Several people falling unconscious at the hospital is not some everyday thing,” Paul said. “And apparently people are having communal hallucinations.”

“Really?” Adam asked, amused. “Like what.”

“Like seeing flying worms, or walking snowmen.” He shrugged. “Fantastical stuff.”

“For a town seeing supernatural events,” Adam said. “It seems like everyone is quite blasé about it.”

“Blasé.” Paul laughed though the word wasn’t really that funny. “I guess so. To me it seems pretty normal. They’re not going to stop working and buying stuff just because we have trees of ice growing on our back gardens?”

“Do you actually have trees of ice growing in your back gardens?”

“I do!” He seemed really excited by it. Adam felt worried. “It grew overnight. Weirdest shit I’ve ever seen. Maybe my overflowing imagination is driving me insane or something.” He seemed to look faraway for a second. “Although, from what I’ve heard, it isn’t the first time things like this happened in this town.”

“Really?” Adam asked, wondering if that meant someone opened a rift to a dream world in the town before.

“The old lady who lives near my house told me some pretty strange stuff happened around twenty years ago.”

“Like what?”

“Like people suddenly waking up dead, their bodies all dry. Or people wandering off in the woods and never coming back.”

“People wander off in the woods and never come back all the time.”

“True. They also mentioned giant spiders.”

“Oh.” Adam grew a little uncomfortable.

“The locals don’t talk much about it,” Paul continued. “I’ve been here only for a little while myself.”

“You moved here?” Adam asked. “What for?”

“To run away,” Paul said. He looked dramatically toward Adam as if expecting some reaction and looked very disappointed when Adam didn’t react. He turned to another road and soon they were out of town proper and going up a rather forested hill.

“I am a college dropout,” Paul continued. “One day, I decided to go somewhere far away all by myself.” He shrugged. “That’s my story.”

“You just up and decided to leave?” Adam asked, thinking that was very stupid.

“You must think that was very stupid,” Paul continued, smiling. He sighed, without losing his smile. He was in a thoughtful mood. “I just felt sad all of a sudden, and like nothing really mattered. I thought I just may as well go somewhere far away sooner rather than later. I never did tell anyone I would leave though.”

The smile slipped away from his face, revealing a surprisingly somber face. They were amidst a forest now. Snow seemed to have fallen for quite a bit in these woods and covered many trees.

“Why not?” Adam asked. “Maybe they could help you.”

“With what?” Paul asked, raising an eyebrow. He scoffed. “I have no idea what I would tell them. And I don’t think I need help. They would just tell me what to do about my life, and probably be correct about it.” Paul pointed at his own head. “I am alone here in my own mind.” He looked outside for a moment, seeming to drift off.

“That didn’t come from you, right?” Adam asked, feeling as though he might have heard the phrase before.

“It came from an author I like,” Paul said. “Although it’s been quite a while since she committed suicide.”

“Why did you leave?” Adam asked, somewhat confused.

For a while Paul kept silent, and Adam thought he might not want to answer such a personal question.

“There wasn’t any reason,” he told him at length. “I just wanted to run away from my friends and family.”

“Were your parents putting too much pressure on you or something like that?” Adam asked.

Paul shook his head. “No more than they should.”

“Did anything traumatic happen to you?”

“Nothing great.” Adam shrugged. “Just minor disappointments, mostly with myself, some with others. And I suppose, I was tired of being a buffoon.”

Adam felt a strange sadness at the young man. “A buffoon?”

“I use to lie a lot to my friends and family,” Paul admitted. “But to be perfectly honest, I am not sure what I lied about.”

Adam rested against his seat, looking ahead at the snowy road, somewhat confused that he seemed to understand Paul’s problems.

“I didn’t really want anything,” Paul continued. “So maybe it’s good that I left college.”

“Didn’t want anything?” Adam asked.

“I didn’t have any dreams or grand plans for the future. I wasn’t greedy or ambitious. I just wanted enough money to live well and freedom to indulge myself in my few small desires. I got all of that, so, maybe I shouldn’t feel so sad, eh?”

“Except for you girlfriend cheating on you.”

He laughed. “Yes, that sounds like a reason to be sad. Another disappointment to the list. It’s a pretty big list, but that makes it near the top since it’s filled with pathetic stuff.”

Adam started humming to a tune he heard from the forest. “Everyone has disappointments.”

Paul nodded his head. “Everyone is a disappointment.”

“That is not what I meant.”

Paul shrugged. “It’s what I understood.”

"This had become a childish conversation."

"I couldn't agree more."

The entrance to the driveway appeared ahead. “There it is,” Adam said.

Paul headed for it, and soon they were before the mansion. Police cars were parked nearby. “Police?” Paul asked.

“They’re visiting a lot recently. Probably about one of my missing brothers.”

As he left the car, however, Adam saw Christopher and Philip entering the house. He took a sniff of himself. He grimaced. The smell of dreams still clung to him from when he raised from the dead.