Silas: A Supernatural Thriller (47 page)

“Early on, though, I found myself starting to lose my memory of Silas. It was like he was fading out of existence in my mind, and that felt unacceptable. So I started penning this here journal.” He places the picture back inside and secures the cover. “It started out simple enough. A page here, a page there. Pretty soon the words were pouring out of me. It was amazing how much I remembered and how
well
I remembered it. As I said, I thought it might make a good memoir, even if folks thought it was fiction. But now I’m not so sure. This is my story, mine and Silas’s. I think it’s gonna stay that way.” Ken reaches over and pats JT on the knee. “Well, I guess you’re involved now too, aren’t you?”

“I guess I am,” the young man says with a smile. “And it’s an honor to be. It’s a fantastic story.”

“Hah! But do you
believe
it?”

JT flashes the thumbs-up. “You know, I think I do.”

For a few minutes they sit in silence, until JT finally stands up. He stares out the window, where the rising sun paints the horizon red as blood. “It’s gonna be morning soon,” he says.

“Really? I’m surprised it’s not here already. Feels like we’ve been talking forever.”

“That’s how it goes sometimes. Sometimes, the letting go can seem like years, and only a few minutes have passed.”

Ken looks at him cockeyed. “What’s that mean?” he asks.

JT laughs. He walks over to the bed and holds out his hands. Without thinking about it, Ken hands him the box. JT takes it and stuffs it beneath his arm. His blue eyes twinkle, his brown skin shines. “You’ll see. In time. But I think you’ve just proven you don’t need this anymore, so I’ll take it. Don’t worry, it’ll be in a safe place. And maybe, someday, folks
will
read about what happened all those years ago. Maybe one day, they’ll be ready.”

A pervasive lightness fills Ken, even as he stares at the angelic young man, dumbfounded. He flexes his arm and feels no pain. He takes a deep breath and his lungs don’t rattle. When he cranes his neck, there are no popping sounds to be heard.

“What’s happening to me?” he asks.

“It’s time,” says JT. “You’re ready now.”

Ken grabs the covers and sits bolt upright in bed. “But I can’t be!” he pleads. “I don’t know what to do! I’m scared!”

“Don’t be,” JT tells him in a kind, sympathetic tone. “You’ll never be alone. Not anymore.”

With that, the young man leaves the room. Behind him appear tracers of light, tracers that shimmer like tiny fireflies that flitter out the door. They gather together and the light becomes blinding. Ken shields his eyes. He swings his legs off the cot, stands up, and backs away.

The light reduces to a brilliant yet bearable shimmer. Ken lowers his hands and stares. Standing in that brilliantly lit doorway is the shadow of a man. The shadow takes one step forward, then another. Its form begins to change, arcing downward, becoming shorter. Soon the shadow is waist high and walking on all fours. It steps across the threshold and enters the room.

“It can’t be,” says Ken with wonder.

Standing before him, his coat shimmering in the light from the doorway, is Silas. He is young again. Both his eyes are there, and they are beautiful. He stands still for a moment, as if to give Ken a chance to catch his breath, and then approaches. When he is but steps in front of him Silas drops to his rump and sits there, staring at him and panting. Tears stream down Ken’s cheeks. He kneels down and takes his boy in his arms, holding him, snuggling him, loving him. Silas responds by licking his face and neck.

Ken glances up and catches a reflection of himself in the mirror. Just like Silas he is young again. He has a full head of hair that is brown not gray. There are no tubes in his chest or his arm. The wrinkles have flattened, the bags under his eyes now nothing but fragments of what they’d become. He laughs, and in that laughter contains the joy of forever.

He stands up. Silas starts walking, leading him toward the door. Ken passes by the bed but doesn’t look at it, for he knows he’ll see himself lying there and he wants no part of that. He simply wants to be with his boy again.

Before they cross the threshold Ken kneels down once more and takes Silas’s cheeks in his hands. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he says. “Do you know how much I
love
you?”

To this, Silas nods.

“You won’t leave me again, will you?”

Silas shakes his head.

“And when we get to the other side, will Wendy be there? Will we get to be a family again?”

This time Silas gives him his doggy grin and turns around. “Very well,” says Ken, and falls in line behind him. He walks hunched over, his hand on the soft fur of his boy’s back, and when they enter the light, as they pass through the portal and into eternity, Ben’s final words echo in his thoughts.

Your life is short, but it is not the only one.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

First off, I’d like to thank everyone who has joined Ken and Silas’s voyage of friendship, mystery, and terror. This book is very important to me, and it was tough to write – especially the end. It is difficult for me to think of my own dog, my precious Leo, and contemplate the end of our time together, which I had to do in order to make the emotional threads genuine. Over the years this bundle of yellow fur has enriched my life more than I ever could have expected. It seems everything I look at relates to him somehow, and it is this commonality that will make life without him difficult. He is a wonderful creature, one who gives love and asks for only love in return, and over the years he has taught me as much about life, of the power of selflessness and devotion, as any human being ever has.

The creation of this book was a journey for me, as well. Many of the events within are based on personal experience and feelings, though in no way is the main character a mirror of myself. He is an amalgamation of many differing principles, from the pressures of masculinity to the dreariness of failure to the kaleidoscope of shortcomings that are bound to emerge in any marriage. I wanted to explore what it means to be all these things, to experience all the pain and doubt that comes from life, while at the same time separating my own circumstances from it. Sure, there are similarities between the characters – Ken is a writer, I’m a writer, Wendy is an artisan, my wife is an artist, Silas is a black Labrador, Leo is a yellow – but the path their fictional lives have taken are not my own. That being said, I have to admit that on many levels I
do
relate to Ken and his thoughts and misgivings. Heck, perhaps I would have turned out the same as he had my life followed a different path. But I guess I’ll never find out, seeing as this is the only life I’ll ever have.

Or is it? (Cue creepy music.)

For those who are interested, anyone who has read
Sins of Our Fathers
, one of my short stories in the collection
The Gate: 13 Dark and Odd Tales
, might be curious to see JT pop up in this book, albeit in a slightly different form. Who is he, you might ask? Well, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure. In my mind I see him as a guardian angel for those whose souls need healing, but he may very well be much more than that. If you keep up with my writing in the future, you might happen upon him again. At least, that’s my hope.

Another character you will most certainly see again is Jacqueline Talbot. What, did you think I’d create some otherworldly, mysterious, and innocent being, and then toss her aside? As a matter of fact, Jacqueline will be the subject of a four-part series I plan on releasing when
The Rift
is finished, called
Covenant.
Her character is actually an old one that I created way back in my (very brief) time at college. Hers is the story that all my work revolves around, and hopefully, in the future, you will all get to see all the wonderful and painful things she has to go through in life, and the reason why the Director (as well as many other inter-dimensional beings) want her dead. My tentative plan right now is to have
The Mirror of Souls
, the first book in the series, ready for publication by June of 2012.

I would like to thank Daniel Pyle and Dan Arenson for the work they did beta reading this novel, for their tireless efforts made my life that much easier. I also need to thank my wife, Jessica, without whom I would find it difficult to simply breathe. To my family and friends, I give my sincerest gratitude. To the fabulous ladies in my life, Melissa Rico, Heather
Bannon
(One Pushy Fox), Mercedes Yardley (without whom this book would never have been written), Sharon Rosen, Emily Lau, and E.J. Stevens, you all are shining jewels in the universe. And I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention my author friends, Dave Dalglish, Amanda Hocking, Jason
Letts
, Sean Sweeney, Dave McAfee, Michael Crane, Moses
Siregar
,
Caton
Easton, and Michelle
Howarth
, who have been with me every step of this excursion and are always sure to point out when I start blundering. Also, one final shout-out goes to Ed
Balon
, adopted daddy of the original Silas, after whom this book was named.

As a final note, I’d like to give remembrance to those departed dogs that have enhanced our lives: Biscuit the Dog, Suzy,
Pearl
, Chip, Wicket, Prince, Girl,
Woofy
, Pooch, Willy, Booboo, Emily, Princess, Andy, Carter, and Dexter. These are just a few of the thousands, and I’m sure many of you have your own names to add to this list. To each and every one of these fabulous creatures, I offer up my most genuine thanks. All of our lives are better because you were in them.

If you wish to contact me, please email
[email protected]
. If you would like to learn more about myself and my work, feel free to visit
http://theriftonline.com
.

You all have my love, and I’ll talk to you soon.

Robert J. Duperre

June, 2011