The Death Agreement (16 page)

"He came and took me from your
room."

"Where is he now?"

Her head turned toward the
pitch-black opening in the middle of the broken wall. "Waiting for
you.".

I stared into the void, then said,
"We need to go."

Tears welled in her eyes. She
smiled, shook her head, then looked down at the blanket. "I can't
go. He's got me."

I pulled the blanket away from her
lap. A brown cardboard box sealed closed with red packing tape lay
across her folded legs. She held it steady between her right hand
and a bleeding stump where her left should have been. Bones
protruded from the wrecked flesh. Satin bands were tied in a
tourniquet around the crook of her arm.

Mary nudged the box with her
stump. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"My god."

Mary cocked her head to the side,
her eyes appearing vacant. "I'm to give you a message,
Jon."

"You're in shock. I have to get
you some help."

"You need to listen."

I swallowed hard. "What are you
talking about? Message from who?"

"From the one who understands,"
she said. "He wants you to take the box in exchange for his
property."

"What property?"

"The saw. It's of the tree, and he
wants it back."

The box seemed to bulge as if
something inside was trying to break through. I said, "I know what
it contains and I don't want it."

Mary laughed. "Maybe I'll open it
then."

"No, Mary. Don't."

She nodded.

"I need to go now. Will you wait
for me?"

She nodded again.

"Okay," I said then brushed back
the strands of white hair and kissed her forehead. "You'll be okay.
I promise."

It took every ounce of willpower
to turn away from her. I walked slowly toward the tunnel, feeling
Mary's stare burning into my back, and I paused…just a
moment…before stepping across the threshold to face whatever fate
awaited below.

***

Thirty-three paces later, I
entered the hidden room where Taylor and I had first discovered the
saw. Dozens of burning candles sat on the floor along the edge of
the four walls. A figure with his back toward me stood in the
center. Over top a black zip-up hoodie, he wore a Civil War coat
with the collar propped. His arms hung at his side. One hand held
Mary's severed wrist, and the other…the saw.

"Hiii, Jooon." The man's voice
sounded like Jesse's grandfather, Howard Taylor.

I raised the gun and fired.
Bullets tore through the man's back until the Glock's slide finally
locked back, clip empty. He didn't fall. I let the useless gun slip
from my fingers, then stood there and waited to die.

Back still toward me, he raised
the saw above his head. "Goodtime wanted me to collect this for
him," he said as his voice changed into one I knew well. "It
belongs in his shop, he had told me. I was too weak, the power too
strong, so I kept the saw for myself, not understanding what it
would mean."

The man turned around.

I stumbled backward.
"T-t-taylor…"

"Hey, gimp!" He moved closer,
opening his arms for a hug.

"Taylor, you…you're dead. I saw
your body."

He stopped three feet away, smiled
a knowing smile, then shrugged. "I got better."

"You killed your family," I said.
"You killed everyone I cared about."

Taylor raised his eyebrows. "Did
I? That's a lie." He glanced at Mary's arm. "This piece doesn't
fit." He dropped the arm, reached into his jacket pocket, and
withdrew my copy of The Death Agreement. "But this one
might."

I drew in a sharp
breath.

Taylor waved the Death Agreement
back and forth. "I know your secret. Shame on you, Jon," Taylor
said. Only now it wasn't Taylor standing in front of me in the
trench coat, it was his mother, Mrs. Christina. "You should be
ashamed," she said.

"W-w-hat the fuck?"

Mrs. Christina stepped forward and
handed me the envelope. As she did, the figure morphed again,
bubbling into Mr. Hunter. "Money doesn't replace a father," he
said, waving his finger at me before changing into Tiffany. Her
soft voice said, "Do you remember taking me out on Blackbird Bay,
Jon? Why didn't you kiss me? I wanted to be the one."

Kyle's features pushed through,
replacing his sister. He said, "When you hit your low point, I
tried to help you. We were friends, too. If only you had let me
help. You could have told me about the girl."

Lorie faded in, holding Little Jon
in the crook of her arm, "Children stay young forever." She cocked
her head and cooed down at her son.

Taylor reappeared in her place and
laughed. "We're all so much closer now. You are family too, Jon.
But you're not blood. That's why I couldn't saw you. I'm sorry you
couldn't join us."

Taylor walked in a circle around
me, dragging the tip of the saw across my midsection. I wanted to
pull away but was somehow frozen in place, unable to move or speak.
The teeth of the saw tore through my uniform, and I felt them bite
into my flesh, scraping across muscle.

"The voices had said we would all
get better if I removed the bad blood." Taylor tapped the side of
his head. "I had it wrong. It wasn't the
parts
that were bad, it was all the
excess. It's the parts that needed to come together. Tell me, when
you look at me, what do you see?"

Taylor let the long coat and
hoodie slip off of his shoulders, revealing his naked body beneath.
The flesh shimmered in the candlelight as jagged lines appeared and
crisscrossed his body, seeping a black fluid.

The true form stole my remaining
sanity. Eight pieces: legs, arms, torso, chest, neck. They were all
different parts of the Taylor family…and god help me, little Jon's
tiny head lulled to the side, milky white eyes rolling back, and
his blackened tongue hung loosely between tiny, toothless
gums.

The lips moved, and Taylor's voice
emerged. "Blood is the secret. Blood made us better. That's why the
children I created tonight all died. They were tied by the bonds of
military brotherhood, but they weren't tied by blood. No matter how
many times I tried, I couldn't get any pieces to stay together. Oh,
I wasn't the first to try either. The saw has been around for a
long, long time, cutting and cutting until someone finally locked
it away after the Civil War." The Frankenstein's monster-like
corpse changed once again into Jesse Taylor. "None knew the secret
to making things…stick. Now that I know…I can saw all the right
pieces and make others. Just…like…me."

The saw tore deeper, and I felt
blood running down my legs. "You can't do this. I'll stop you,
Jesse."

Taylor laughed. "Stop me? Your
parts are going to be used for the next one."

"No!" I screamed and pushed Taylor
away. He swung the saw in an arc at my head. I slapped my palms
around it, stopping it inches from my face. I fell backward,
pulling the saw free of his grasp, but Taylor toppled on me, his
body morphing into the jigsaw of corpses. Black gore dripped from
his mouth into my eyes, and an inhuman voice boomed, "E pluribus
unum!" Then the Taylor family screamed like a chorus of the damned,
"Out of many, one!"

"Mary! Run!" I struggled to get my
fingers around the handle of the saw and felt a power surge through
me. Once I had a firm grasp, I ripped it from the thing's grasp. It
tried take it again, but I slashed at it's hand, severing three
fingers.

Footsteps echoed through the dark
corridor.

"Go!" I screamed. "Leave
me!"

The thing that had once been my
family looked up into the hallway and screamed. Liquid sailed over
my head, covering the monster which morphed back to Taylor again,
eyes burning with rage. The room that shouldn't have existed
exploded in flames, and the thing tried to climb over me. I drew
back my legs and kicked it into the fire, feeling the wound on my
stomach rip.

A hand grabbed me under my arm and
pulled me up the tunnel.

Taylor screamed and tried to climb
out of the inferno, but I held him back with one foot. My pant leg
caught fire and I wondered why I couldn't feel the pain.

"Joooooon!"

Someone continued to drag me
further into the tunnel, and my prosthetic separated from my body.
I felt a warmth spread over me and color faded from the
world.

Taylor screamed and struggled,
flailing to make it out, but the prosthetic seemed have wedged
against the ground, pinning him in the burning room.

After another tug up the tunnel, a
deep cough erupted from my lungs. I screamed in pain and wrapped my
arms around my blood-soaked midsection. Heat came not just from
behind me, but from ahead, too. Black smoke flowed from both
directions. The entire basement was burning.

"Jooooooon!" Taylor screamed.
"Jooooooooon!"

"Wait," I said, remembering the
saw. I looked at my bloodied hands, wanting to feel the power
course through them. I tried to reach back toward the hellish saw
but it was out of reach. "Goodtime," I said. "What about Alan
Goodtime?"

The hands pulled again…and my eyes
closed.

EX POST
FACTO

On the last page of The Death Agreement, Taylor
and I had added a section titled Ex Post Facto: Latin for
after the fact.

Like the Preamble, this section
had remained a mystery to us at the time. Like staring into a dark
mirror, possible futures are in constant flux, and you and can
never be sure what will be thrown your way.

I had believed the Preamble would
turn into a brief overview of the role other people play in the
lives we live, but instead it became a warning to those who might
read this tale. I apologize for that.

As for Ex Post Facto….Well, I
still dream about meeting with Taylor's family one last time. I
imagine they've all gone on to complete the wishes they vowed for
themselves. I find myself talking with them, asking about life's
simple joys, all the while I'm transcribing what they say into this
section.

In one scene, one lost future,
we're sitting in their backyard in the sunshine, looking out at
Blackbird Bay, laughing together the way that only families
can.

Little Jon bounces on Lorie's
knee. Mr. Hunter and Mrs. Christina hold hands while they lay in
matching lawn chairs. Kyle and Jesse are skipping rocks. Tiffany is
building a house of cards on the picnic table. Even Howard Taylor
is present, but everyone calls him Grampa Howie. He's a happy old
man doing backstrokes in the pool.

It feels right. It feels like
home.

But the smiling faces fade to
terrified distortions as limbs begin to fall off. One by one, body
parts drop to the ground until the Taylor family is nothing but
piles of flesh and bone.

The pieces are still alive.
Severed heads look to me with their dead, pleading eyes and scream
out in soul-crushing pain. "Heeelp usss!" I stumble backward,
slipping on blood. "Heeelp usss!" Others join their crying.
Hundreds of voices, thousands, ring out from the dark. I see their
faces on every surface, faint, superimposed shadow images. They beg
for help, for salvation. "Heeelp usss!"

I back away faster, looking for an
escape. The shouting continues to grow and resonate until I can't
hear my own thoughts. The pain is unbearable. I press my hands to
the sides of my head in a feeble attempt to block out the screams
of the condemned, but it grows louder still, louder until I hear a
ripping, and warm liquid begins to flow from my ears.

I turn in a circle, slowly at
first, then faster and faster, desperately looking for a place to
run.

When you're in Hell there is no
place to run.

***

I woke drenched in sweat, heart
pounding violently in my chest, and I realized I wasn't alone. A
pale faced, blonde haired woman lie next to me. Her naked body,
partially covered by a white sheet, looked perfect and inviting.
Frost-blue eyes fluttered open and met mine.