End of an Age by Mark Tufo
“Steak sounds good. I always get french fries when I go to fancy places. Does that make me look uncouth?”
“Naw. I would think the untrimmed facial hair and the Red Sox hat would do that without any help.”
“Bite your tongue! The hat gives me class. Sophistication, even.”
“Did Tracy tell you that?”
“Just assumed. I mean, she stayed married to me, so I’ve got to figure it worked on some level.”
We kept up the charade, talking about places we’d visited, meals we’d eaten, people we’d known, hardships we’d endured—plenty of the latter, to keep us going for quite some time. I didn’t know how long we were going to be able to do this in the face of eternity, but what was the option?
“I’m scared Mr. T.,” he said in a moment of silence.
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“I was a big boy, I knew what I was doing. Somehow I have the notion that no matter what I chose on that roof so many years ago I’d still have ended up here. I’d just as soon it was by my own decision than someone else’s. Who would have thought I’d be wishing I was back in the middle of the zombie apocalypse?”
“Yeah...the good old days,” he said deadpan. Our laughter spread out and away from us. Maybe some other wayward traveler would be able to revel in the mirth for a quick moment, or more likely it would be the final straw in their now miserable existence and send them even farther away into the cancerous recesses of their mind.
We found that we didn’t necessarily have to talk as long as we kept physical contact. If I had a belt I would have tied our hands together. On occasion Tommy would sing, and surprisingly, he was pretty good. He knew a vast number of songs, including some old Germanic lullabies, which were rather soothing. Tommy told me that sleep did not exist here, so I was not in danger of drifting off.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“If you must. I’m in a little bit of a rush, though.”
“You’ve been working on your stuff, haven’t you?” I asked back.
“Humor works better when you have someone else to share it with,” he said.
“Yeah, otherwise they just call it insanity when you laugh out loud at random times.”
“You haven’t asked anything yet.”
“I’m afraid to, that if I somehow give voice to it...” I hesitated, as did Tommy before he responded.
“You want to know why we’re together?”
“This more mind-reading?”
“The ability did not disappear just because of this locale. I thought it might be easier for you if I said it instead.”
“Marginally,” I told him truthfully.
“Well, I am still here, so it appears that your concerns were not valid.”
“Yeah, I feel so much better.”
“I think, Mr. T., that there is still more you must do.”
“What are we exactly?” I asked after a while. He didn’t answer immediately so I thought I’d attempt to make clearer what I was asking. “I mean, our bodies are gone, right? Broken discarded things left back on earth to rot. Our souls are wandering some sort of purgatory and then there is this...us, right here, right now. What the fuck are we?”
“My understanding of this place is not nearly as comprehensive as your questions are, Mr. T. We just are.”
“I hate that philosophical bullshit. Once had a philosophy teacher tell me that the meaning of life was a bowl of snow. Felt like finding that meaning and shoving her face in it, if you know what I mean. What’s the meaning of that!?” I was imagining the cold biting into her pretentious features. Wouldn’t have solved anything, but I would have got more out of the class that way.
My rant continued. “By all accounts we should not be. There’s nothing left of us to be.”
“And yet here we are.”
“You’re getting dangerously close to that aforementioned bowl,” I told him.
He placed his free hand up. “Consciousness maybe? Something or someone has given us this ability.”
A thought dawned on me. “Are we ghosts? This goes back to what you said; we died before we completed some important tasks. Can’t we at least maybe find a cool mansion to haunt?”
I left it at that. Neither of us had anything more to add. One direction was much like the other, hopelessness began to build up within me no matter how many times I took a hammer to the insipid thoughts. We couldn’t do this forever; more accurately, I could not do this forever. There was nothing to do. I could be here until the earth was swallowed by the sun going supernova; I would still be here when the jumbled pile of rocks began to congeal and cool. I’d be here when it began to orbit around another star. I’d be here when life first began to appear on a new world. I’d be here when that life was inevitably wiped away again, and the process started anew. There was no hope of this ever really ending. I couldn’t die because I wasn’t alive. This can’t be what it all boiled down to—could it?
I’d been allowed to keep my family alive during the z-poc and I’d been around to once again save those I cared for during the Lycan uprising, and now this was it? This was my reward for a life of battle and servitude to those in positions of higher power?
“Well fuck you then!” I screamed.
“I’ve done that a few times too. ‘They’ don’t really care. This sounds horrible, Mr. T., but I almost envy my sister.”
I said nothing. An eternity of intolerable suffering didn’t sound like such a bargain either.
As if Tommy knew my thoughts, he continued. “At least, she feels something, she’s somewhere.”
“I don’t know, bud, I think this is one of those cases where you have to be careful what you wish for. It’s like getting out of county jail to go to a federal penitentiary.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Not sure if I ever heard those words from Tracy,” I smiled as I said it. If my internal clock was still relatively calibrated to Earth time we’d been walking somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-four hours, yet I was not weary. Not only were my recent wounds not troubling me, but there were no cramps in my legs, my lower back wasn’t screaming for me to sit. I wasn’t about to get massive charlie horses. Like everything else, I could have done it forever. A person alive cannot even begin to fathom the depths of that word. Forever. It is bigger than all of space, more vast than any recorded time, for it has no end. It is beyond our scope, really. How many times as a teenager did I tell a girl, or she say to me, that we would love each other forever? Forever in those cases usually ended up being about three months. That is forever to an adolescent. Even the love I felt for the one I was bound to had spanned two centuries, and that would not be considered a blink of an eye here.
Tommy was singing a Gaelic limerick, if I wasn’t mistaken, when I saw the first thing in this world of gray that did not seem to belong here. I pulled him along to the left, he followed, still happily singing along about a barmaid who loved to lift her petticoats or something. My feet were moving faster; soon I’d be dragging him along.
“What’s the hurry?” He’d stopped singing and then seemed genuinely sad that he had done so. “Oh!” he exclaimed when he finally saw what I had been seeing. I was pretty fucking happy he’d seen it as well, gave me validation that it was there and not some sort of mirage.
“What is it?” he asked.
“So, I’m going to assume by your question that you have no idea?”
I turned to watch him shake his head. His lip was trembling. “I have been here alone for...some time. I have not seen anything different at any point.”
It was damn near impossible to gauge distance in a place with zero points of reference. It was merely a small, dark, horizontal gash ahead of us. Hardly worthy of note except for how completely alien it was in this nothingness. I didn’t know if it was a foot across or a mile. We started running, in case the thing was on a timer and would wink out of existence. The cruelness of that possibility almost had
“How big is it?” Tommy asked.
“I’d say window-sized from where we are, door-sized would be better—something to walk out of. Shit, I’d squeeze through a doggie door if it meant escape from this place.”
We slowed as we got nearer, the thing took shape. It was indeed the size of a window, though not quite rectangular. The sides were bowed as if the top weighed an inordinate amount and was compressing the framework. Other than that, the only distinguishing factor was how black it was inside that box, like the light refused to go anywhere near it. It could have been a millimeter thick or extend out to another universe.
“Michael Talbot and Tomas Vangoth, it has been much too long since we have crossed paths,” a dark, heavy, ominous voice hissed through the opening.
We could not see the entity that issued forth those words, yet I felt as if he was peering at us intently through that dark veil. Tommy had pulled up short, I stopped almost immediately once the length of my arm was played out. He’d gripped my hand tighter so that I could go no further. There was no telling what would happen if I’d fallen into that opening.
“You seem surprised to see me. Did you not summon me here?” Though I could see nothing, I got the distinct impression that he was looking around at his surroundings. “No, I do not believe you did. I should not be here.”
“Wait.” I can’t fucking believe I’d said that. I just told Lucifer to hang on a second.
“You misunderstand, Michael. I should not be here, as in, I have no power in this realm nor the ability to bring myself here. But now that I am here, I am utterly fascinated as to the reasons why.”
“You don’t know?” Tommy uttered.
“I suppose I could lie and say that I do, but at this very moment honesty seems to work out in my favor. With you two standing before me, I would think the answer obvious.”
I felt like I’d swallowed a pregnant bullfrog before I could speak. “Can you get us out of here?”
“Even if I could, why would I? As soulless ones, you offer up nothing in return.”
“Someone begs to differ,” I said.
He thought on that.
“What are you doing Mr. T?” Tommy asked.
“Negotiating, I think.”
“You’re not buying a car.”
“Good thing, you have no idea how many times I was taken for a ride.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Sort of. Although, a nineteen percent interest rate on a car loan is nothing to laugh about.”
“I may be able to help,” Lucifer interrupted our conversation.
“What’s in it for you?” Tommy responded.
“A chance. Something which I lack now and possibly for all eternity, given your current circumstances.”
“What are you talking about?” It was my turn to be confused.
“There are things happening beyond even my scope. Subtle shifts, plays for power. I will not speculate because it is not my concern. I am only interested in that which I can control. It appears I will be able to get you both to the Realm of Souls.”
Tommy gasped, I didn’t know how to react. Wasn’t sure if the news was good or bad and did not want to look ignorant to that fact.
“Why? We are dead,” Tommy said.
“You, Tomas Vangoth, are indeed dead. Your head was neatly removed from your shoulders. Let me ask you one question though. If you somehow did find your way back to your soul, where would be the first place you would go?”
Tommy became tight-lipped.
The entity in the window laughed. It was not a kind hearted sound. “You cannot lie to me! I am the demon of deceit.”
“I would go and get my sister.”
“Of course you would, like the dutiful brother you are. You’ve already wasted the majority of your life attempting to save the unsalvageable. Why would you behave any differently in the underworld?”
“And me?”
“With your soul, Michael Talbot, you would expel the vampire from within and once again be merely a man of flesh, blood, and temptation. You would again be a free agent, as the saying goes. I would very much enjoy having you for company.”
“You say that now, but after a couple of thousand years you’d get sick of me.”
“Perhaps.” Maybe there was some mirth in the response. “I do not believe I can stay here long. At some point this tear in the fabric will be discovered and dealt with. If you wish to get back what you both so desperately want, you will have to follow me. It will not be pleasant, and I cannot guarantee success, but it appears that this may be your only chance.”
“Can you give us a minute?” I asked, before turning Tommy away from the window.
“We should run,” was the first thing out of his mouth.
“You mean once we go through the window, or away from here now?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Whatever happens, Tommy, do not let go of my hand.”
We turned back to the darkness.
“Splendid,” came the raspy voice.
I had to step up to put my foot and leg through. There was a cold, numbing sensation that touched every part of me as I broke through that unseen barrier. Tommy was torn from my grip and the feeling of plunging downward ensued. In the pit of my stomach I knew it had been a trick. I was dissolving and soon there would be nothing left.
25
EPILOGUE 2
Azile
“SOMEONE WISHES TO speak with you, Azile.” It was Partrib, Inuktuk’s guard. He had not left her side since Michael had fallen. She’d been busy cleaning his wounds and dressing him in undamaged clothes in preparation for his burial. Tears streaked down her face, eyes puffy and red from crying. She was not the only one burying a loved one, the mood in camp was somber, even in victory. There are no winners in war. Oggie whined and draped his body over Michael’s wherever Azile wasn’t working. She’d had to shift the dog multiple times in an effort to prepare the body.
“I do not wish to be disturbed,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes for the hundredth time.
“I will not be long,” came the gravelly voice of Lunos.
Azile stood, her eyebrows furrowed. She shook with rage at the Lycan that dared to desecrate her ceremony. “I should kill you where you stand!”
“You could. I came here willingly to pay my respects to the man. He was a great warrior.”
“You’ve verified what you needed to, now get out of here.”
“You are mistaken, Red Witch. I did not desire this war between our kinds any more than you. It was my wish to work together with the Old One to stop this calamity; I spoke to him about collaboration.”
“I doubt your sincerity Lunos. With Xavier out of the way I believe that you will attempt to forge the crown he so desperately wanted.”
“My people were not meant for subjugation. We are pack animals, responding to hierarchy, not monarchy. And we are not naturally warmongering.”
“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”
“May I?” Lunos pointed and moved toward Michael. Azile stepped in between. Partrib stood with her. Oggie stood with them, fur bristling, head hanging low, he began to bark savagely between growls, a deadly row of canine teeth exposed and prepared to do their worst. Bailey came running, spear in hand.
“You are not welcome here, Lunos, regardless your intent. Take your Lycan and leave. Any that still remain in the morning will be dealt with permanently,” Azile said. Lunos did not move.
“You heard her,” Bailey said, leveling the point of her spear at Lunos’ midsection. He looked at the small woman and growled.
“You will live to regret this slight, if you are so lucky,” he said before turning to leave.
“Should we kill him?” Bailey asked when he was a few steps away.
“I have had my fill of death for now, Bailey. I do not think I could drink another drop.” Azile tur
“Azile, there is still the problem of the werewolves to deal with,” Bailey said. Azile never acknowledged the words; she merely continued to stroke Mike’s face. Partrib lightly tapped Bailey’s shoulder and held his palm up slightly, silencing her before she could ask the question again. He pulled her to the side.
“We should leave her now to her grieving. I will round up some of my people and we will go after them without her. It is a most distasteful task.”
Lana was sitting with Mathieu, who had been inconsolable. He wept openly and had neither slept nor eaten. “He was my friend; Michael was my only friend. I did not think I would ever know that type of human connection again, which is kind of funny...” he sniffed, “because....because neither of us are...were completely human.”
“Oh, Mathieu.” Lana was crying as well; she hugged the man tightly.
Azile spent the majority of the day sitting next to Michael, his hand firmly pressed to her lips. “You’re so cold my love; how I wish I could warm you. I will find a hill on which to bury you, one with a view towards the east. The sun will rise each morning and shine upon your grave.” Oggie whined as she said the words as if he understood their implication.
In the early afternoon, Bailey had asked if Azile wanted a pyre built to give Mike a warrior’s send off, but she had said no, that she could not stand the thought of him burning. Bailey had understood and left it at that. That evening, Azile performed a number of incantations and doused Michael’s body in ellagua oil; a pungent herbal infusion used to preserve the flesh and ward off scavengers. If fire could not have him, then neither could animals or insects. Azile was certain that if archeologists stumbled upon him ten thousand years from now he would look much like he did now. Early that morning she’d sent a dove up in search of a perfect spot; within two hours it had relayed the information. With Partrib’s help, she placed Mike’s body atop a horse and began the arduous journey to the peak the bird had found.