The Realms of the Dead (26 page)
Read The Realms of the Dead Online
Authors: William Todd Rose
The door of the cage swung open and he blinked away the afterimages from the flash of light while clenching and unclenching his hands. Controlling his own fingers had never felt so damn good and Chuck laughed as he sniffled away the remnants of tears.
Beyond the Faraday Cage, Chuck saw the walls and floor of his office. The vast field with its brittle grass and collection of carcasses was entirely gone. Somehow, seeing these things felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey and a smile spread across Chuck's face as he laughed again.
Closer to him, Marilee and Control stood in the doorway. With no trace of the injuries they'd sustained in the Bleedover, they looked down at him warily. Hope reflected in their eyes, but at the same time, Chuck could tell they were prepared to slam the door shut again if they had to.
“Chuckâ¦buddyâ¦is that you?”
Chuck sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, carefully searching his own mind before venturing an answer. Only his own thoughts ran through his head. No matter what had become of Abigail's spiteful spirit once the Faraday Cage had dispersed its magnetic field, Chuck Grainger was positive of one thing: he was alone in his own mind againâ¦and that was exactly how he liked it.
“Yeah,” he croaked, “it's me.
Just
me.”
He felt Marilee probing his mind, but allowed the girl free rein. After all, he couldn't fault them for being cautious.
“He's clean,” Marilee confirmed with a smile.
Picking himself up from the floor, he wiped sweat from his brow as he stepped out of the cage. His legs felt weak and he fell forward, but Control caught him in her arms. Together she and Marilee helped him to the sofa.
“It's over,” he whispered. “It's finally over.”
Chuck Grainger had shaken so many hands that cramps seized his palms at irregular intervals. A cardboard box sat by his feet and he glanced at its contents wistfully, allowing each object to conjure a memory and accompanying smile. Groups of people milled about on the platform around him, but their conversations were hushed and heads repeatedly turned to look in his direction. From an overhead PA, an electronic voice echoed through the tunnels: “ETA, three minutes and counting. Topside temperature, sixty-seven degrees. Chance of precipitation, thirty percent.”
Control and Marilee stood before him, their mouths turned up in smiles while concern tinted their eyes. What his mother had always referred to as
putting on your brave face
.
“You sure about this, buddy?”
Chuck took Control's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“More sure than I've ever been about anything, my friend. I just can't do this anymore.”
“She was crazy, you know,” Marilee piped in. “I mean, certifiably. Everything that happened, Mr. Graingerâ¦it ain't your fault.”
Chuck took a deep breath of the cool, damp air and held it for a moment. This was an argument he'd gone over with himself a thousand times over the last few days.
“You know, kiddo,” he finally said, “it actually is. I failed her. Plain and simple. I almost failed you, too.”
Marilee lowered her gaze as her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt.
“But you didn't,” she mumbled. “Fail me, I mean. You
didn't.
”
The trio stood in silence before Control finally spoke.
“So what are you going to do?”
“First thing? Get a nice, hot cup of black coffee and a dozen assorted donuts.”
“No, dummy.” Control punched him playfully in the arm. “Long term.”
“Dunno.” Chucked shrugged. “Get a bit of property? Maybe an alpaca or two. Hell, maybe a whole pack of alpacas.”
Control rolled her eyes and said, “You? An alpaca herder? Yeah, right.”
“I socked away a heck of a lot in my 401k over the years. Single man, no responsibilities with a modest apartment. You'd be surprised how much I put aside. And my stocks did
really
well. The point is, I've got a cushion. I'll be able to figure out the
what next?
question in my own sweet time.”
“ETA, one minute and counting⦔
People walked toward the edge of the platform with briefcases and gym bags in tow.
“You stay in touch, buddy, you hear? You got my number.”
The pair hugged and Chuck squatted down on the platform. Placing his hand against Marilee's cheek, he looked the girl in the eyes and smiled.
“I'll never forget you, Bloody,” he said softly. “You really are rare, you know.”
He kissed Marilee's cheek and the girl blushed.
“I won't forget you either, Mr. Grainger. Never.”
The squeal of brakes cut through the train's roar and the doors hissed open once it had come to a complete stop.
“Now boarding: East 7th Street, Minnetonka Avenue, Pullman Square, and North Richardson.”
Gathering his box of personal belongings, Chuck stepped onto the secret subway one last time and raised his hand in a silent wave goodbye. The door slid shut but he remained there, gazing through the window at his friends on the platform. His reflection hovered in the pane of glass like a phantom trapped between two worlds; but for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw something else mirrored in its surfaceâa little girl whose glasses made her eyes look overly large and insectlike, running toward a radiance that may have only been the glare of overhead lighting. The image faded as the train sped into the darkness and Chuck closed his eyes, Control's parting question repeating in his mind.
What next?
He honestly wasn't sure. After roaming the realms of the dead for so many years, life itself had become a puzzle. But it was one Chuck Grainger was more than ready to solve.
For Carl Hose, Doug Campbell, and Vincenzo Bilof, who've supported my work since almost the very beginningâ¦and became valued friends along the way.
Y
W
ILLIAM
T
ODD
R
OSE
Apocalyptic Organ Grinder
Crossfades
Bleedovers
W
ILLIAM
T
ODD
R
OSE
writes dark, speculative fiction from his home in West Virginia. His short stories have been featured in numerous anthologies and magazines, and his novels include
Cry Havoc, The Dead & Dying,
and
The Seven Habits
. For more information on the author, including links to bonus content, please visit him online.
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