Vanish (27 page)

It smelled like a musty attic. Conner looked around. He held his hand to the open door-plate of the stove and frowned. It glowed, but he could feel no warmth. He examined his arm again. It was entirely enveloped by the purple rash. He could feel the prickling, cold sensation on his shoulder.

“I see you decided to join us again.” Howard’s voice jolted Conner. He spun around to see the old farmer behind him, in the doorway.

Conner backed away. His heart pounded. “Stay away from me!”

Howard drew a deep breath and sighed. “I suppose I can’t blame you for being upset.”

Conner narrowed his eyes. “What’s happening? What is this place?”

Howard lifted his eyebrows. “It’s Indiana.”

“This is
not
Indiana.”

“Well…” Howard shrugged. “It’s more like what you remember you always thought Indiana
might
be like.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Howard stepped inside. “It’s everything your mind is still clinging to of your life. Like an afterimage of your world.”

“My
life
?” Conner swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to give voice to his fears. But still, he needed to know. “Are we… are we dead?”

“No, you’re not dead,” Howard chuckled. “Not yet.”

“I don’t get it.”

“This place is not your final destination, only the road that leads to it.” Howard nodded out the window. “This… Interworld… is that gossamer veil between life and death. A curtain, if you will, between Time and Eternity. And everyone, sooner or later, passes through it.”

Conner shook his head. “Then who are you?”

“Me?” Howard raised his eyebrows and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m just a gatekeeper of sorts. Just the doorman, really.”

“So that storm we all saw, with the lights…”

Howard nodded. “That was the portal—for lack of a better term. The threshold of perception. It’s only truly visible when death is imminent.”

“My heart attack,” Conner said. “And Mitch, and Helen?”

“Yes. Each of you is dying. And your spirits are passing through this dimension.” Howard rubbed his jaw. “It
is
somewhat of an anomaly that you happened upon each other as you did. Spirits rarely cross paths here. And even when they do, it’s rare for them to have any interaction.”

“Spirits?” Conner’s gaze beat a trail across the cabin. He looked down at his hands. “But I’m no… I’m no spirit. See? I have a physical body.” He rubbed his arms. His own flesh was solid to his touch. “This is just some kind of illusion.”

Howard shook his head. “You still cling to life. You only appear to have a body because your mind still believes it. It hasn’t yet accepted the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

Howard circled the room. “Life is like a flame, Mr. Hayden. Some people die so suddenly that their flames are just snuffed out.” He brought his hand down on one of the candles on the table. Smoke curled up from the bent wick. “They pass through this place so quickly, they’re scarcely even aware of it. But for others… for others, death comes more slowly. An illness or a coma. Or in your case, a heart attack.” He bent down and blew gently on a second candle. The flame flickered, bowed, and went out, leaving the tip of the wick glowing. “For them, the flame goes out but the ember still glows for a time. And they linger here until the last vestige of their life fades completely.” He straightened up again. “But this body you touch—what you
think
you
feel
—is only your perceived physicality. Only what your spirit remembers of its shell. And as your life fades, so will your perception.”

“What about those creatures?” Conner’s frown deepened. “What are they? Why are they after us?”

Howard’s lips tightened. “Mankind is not alone in the universe, Mr. Hayden. There are creatures here that you cannot even begin to fathom. Creatures far older and wiser than you, who existed long before mankind ever drew his first breath. Some whose beauty defies description. And others more hideous than you could possibly imagine.”

Conner recalled the chilling hallucinations he’d been having earlier. Even before the storm. “I thought I was just seeing things. People staring at me. And the guy on the roof with no face…”

Howard nodded. “Sometimes, when a person is near death, they may get a glimpse behind the veil.”

Conner shook his head. “But I was fine. I felt…”

“No, Mr. Hayden.” Howard leaned his gaunt face toward Conner. “You were dying since breakfast. You just didn’t know it.”

Conner’s mind reeled. What was he talking about? Angels and demons? He had never believed in such nonsense. He still wasn’t sure he did. He started to feel dizzy.

“Then which kind are you? You saved us from them, but then you led me right to them. Back in the barn.”

Howard smiled and looked down. “Well, I must confess, I do have a flair for the dramatic. I love to play the savior on occasion.”

“Savior?”

Howard frowned. “But you weren’t supposed to go back. You were too far gone. I thought for sure you were ours.”

“But they
did
bring me back,” Conner said. “In the hospital, they… they revived me.”

Howard nodded. “Most unexpectedly, I might add.”

“So… so I’m not dead yet.” Conner fought back his fear. “You said I’m still clinging to life, right?”

Howard shrugged. “A technicality.”

Conner caught a glimmer of hope. “Then there’s still a chance. If they revived me once…”

“Oh…” Howard’s expression turned to what Conner could only interpret as pity. “Oh, Mr. Hayden, I’m afraid you may be setting yourself up for a big disappointment. It’s very rare.”

“But not unheard of,” Conner persisted. “It does happen.”

Howard shrugged again. He seemed to concede the point, if only as a technicality. But Conner was shifting reflexively into lawyer mode, as if he might barter his way out of this situation. An entire case could swing on a single technicality or loophole. He had done this countless times before. It was just a question of bringing it to light. Exploiting it.

“Yes,” Howard said. “But your life is fading. Your heart has stopped. And your breathing. Even now, your cells are going without oxygen. Soon they will begin to die and your brain synapses will cease. In minutes you will be beyond anyone’s ability to revive. It is inevitable.” He pointed to the discoloration that now enveloped Conner’s arm. “Once it covers you completely, there will be no going back.”

“But if I can just hold on until—”

“
Hold on
?” Howard raised his eyebrows. “Do you think any of this depends on your efforts? Do you think you can add a single second to your allotted time? Or affect your fate by sheer force of will?”

“Fate?” Conner’s face darkened. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“I know,” Howard chuckled. “And that is precisely how you got to this point. Your arrogance. Your unbelief.”

“You mean in God?” Conner shook his head. “You’re wrong. I do believe. I just believe in a God who doesn’t take the least bit of interest in what He created. Just look at His world: famines, floods, earthquakes, diseases. There’s no real justice. No rhyme or reason. It’s all suffering and chaos. My fate is my own. It’s what I make it. And yes, I do think I can lengthen my time by sheer force of will.”

Howard sighed. “Why do you persist in trying to be the master of your destiny?”

“Because I am!”

Suddenly the entire cabin shuddered. Dust seeped from every crack within its framework. The ground trembled and a deep groan echoed through the forest. Conner stumbled to his knees. After several seconds, all was quiet again.

“What was that?”

Howard steadied himself against the doorway and brushed off his shirt. His lips tightened. “You spoke the Name, Mr. Hayden. Those words are dangerous here.”

“What name?”

“
The
Name, Mr. Hayden.
His
Name.”

Conner furrowed his brow. “What’re you talking about?”

Howard leaned close. His thin lips peeled back. “
Ego Sum
.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “
I Am
. You appropriated it for yourself. A thing you do at your own peril.”

Conner frowned. A memory flitted back to him from his childhood. When his parents brought him to Sunday school. An old man and a burning bush. He shook his head and fought to stay on the offense.

“I don’t care.” Conner examined his arm again. “I intend to hold on. I’m going to fight this. I’m going to fight
you
!”

Howard only smiled. “I knew you would. But it won’t do you any good. You cannot fight that which is inevitable.”

“I can try.”

Howard looked at him for a moment. His gray eyes seemed placid and thoughtful. “Mr. Hayden, you don’t have a clue what lies beyond this place, do you?”

Conner stepped back. It was the question he had been trying to thrust from his mind. If this place was merely the path… what was the ultimate destination?

At that moment, Helen’s shrill cry echoed again from deeper inside the forest. Conner stepped outside and peered into the woods.

Howard folded his arms. “You want to save her, don’t you? Your chivalry is noble and quite noteworthy considering your present circumstances. But really, Mr. Hayden, do you honestly think you can do anything for her?”

She screamed again. Conner’s heart pounded. He was being drawn farther into the forest. Every sense inside him shouted a warning. It was a trap. Yet he could not listen to those cries for help and do nothing. He had to at least try.…

“I have to try,” he said, drawing a breath. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself forward, into the woods.

CONNER FORCED HIMSELF ONWARD. Helen’s cries sounded close, just a little ways ahead. He shuddered again; his knees trembled. What were they doing to her? What would they do to him? How could he possibly hope to save her? And why would he even try? They were strangers, after all. They hardly knew each other. Would she be doing this for him if their places were reversed?

Howard’s words echoed in his mind:
You cannot fight that which is inevitable
.

The flashlight cast contorted shadows amid the gnarled trunks and branches. The mist lit up like a thick, glowing wall before him, not allowing him to see more than ten or fifteen feet in front or behind. He could very likely wander through the woods all night and miss Helen completely.

His progress was limited by the frequency of Helen’s cries. He traveled in the direction her last scream had come from, but just as he would be ready to give up completely, he would hear her voice again, somewhere up ahead.

Before long, the ground began to rise steadily. Rocks peppered the forest floor, slowing his progress. The trees quickly thinned out, and soon he found himself scrambling up a steep incline. Helen’s cries were close now. Just beyond the crest…

He emerged onto a wide, level clearing and stopped. Ahead of him, Conner could see, far off, a pale sky on the horizon. Whether it was from the onset of dawn or for some other reason, he could not tell. He had long since lost track of time. But he could not see anything between himself and the far horizon. He swept the light across the ground in front of him and gasped. The rocky embankment ended abruptly. He was standing on the edge of a massive cliff. The horizon continued to grow brighter, and before long, Conner was able to make out more of his surroundings.

He was indeed standing on the edge of a cliff. A vast abyss opened before him, stretching into the distance. Yet to the east was a distant plateau, like the far shore of a wide lake, now lit more brightly. The clouds were breaking there, and Conner could see distant shafts of sunlight pouring down upon that place. He peered into the distance and rubbed his eyes. Green? Was it green grass he saw? Rolling hills and lush foliage?

Yet immediately overhead, he could see only thick, gray clouds. Behind him and to each side stretched the dry, black forest. To the north and south, the jagged ledge extended as far as he could see.

The wind swept around him now, gusting and swirling, tugging him to the edge. And he could still hear the haunting, disembodied whispers coming from both the woods behind him and the chasm ahead.

Conner swallowed and inched his way forward. The rocky ledge dropped off sharply and disappeared into blackness. The sheer face of the cliff dissolved into an inky void. A gust of wind shot up from the depths, carrying a choking, fetid stench and something else.…

Agony.

For an instant, Conner caught the full brunt. A wave of voices, crying out. Human voices. Thousands. Millions. Each one distinct and yet all blended together into a seemingly solid force: sorrow, hatred, anger, and unfettered, unbridled rage. And terror. As deep and bottomless as the chasm itself seemed. Conner heard them all at once.

The sound of it, the depth and vastness of it, physically knocked him backward. His chest seized with icy talons as he fell onto the rocks and scrambled away from the edge. The horror of it stole his breath away. He shook his head, gasping for air.

He felt a presence behind him, looming over him, and turned to see a gaunt silhouette against the gray sky.

Howard curled an eyebrow. “You never believed in the afterlife, did you?”

“What… what is this place?”

“It is the abyss, Mr. Hayden. Endless darkness. The threshold of eternity.”

Conner closed his eyes. He tried to control his fear. To let it pass over him and through him. “Is that… ?” His voice sounded weak and pathetic. “Is that where Helen’s gone?”

Howard’s pale face grew solemn. “I’m afraid so.”

Conner struggled to his feet and stared at Howard. The old farmer seemed completely absurd, standing in his plaid shirt and overalls. Conner’s expression faded from fear into a scowl.“Why? Why is
she
there? She was a good person.”

Howard’s eyes flared. “Do you even know the meaning of the word?” He closed his eyes and drew a long, slow breath, as if Conner had irritated him somehow and he was trying to control his outrage. “Nice, perhaps. She may very well have been a
nice
person. But she was hardly good.”