Dying Wish

[8] N-E-M-A

My eyes cracked to the patter of something on the top of my head. Cold and trickling down my cheeks. An odorless fluid. This was easier to deal with than the pain. I'll never forget it. How a dull soreness hammered the back of my skull.

The first thing I heard was myself. My groggy moans.

Then...

Clicccck...

What was that? Couldn't be anything good.

The faster the blurriness cleared, the faster my sweat mixed into the water. A tiny hand gripped a massive black gun. My eyes moved up a sleeve, past the puffy shoulder of a winter vest, to the focused eyes of a girl with short, black hair.

The squeeze of fabric kept me bound. Bedsheets or pillowcases. The tightness tingled my wrists and put pins into my fingertips. A man with gelled hair and a small goatee was responsible for tying me down. He stepped toward her. I knew these faces. From that night on the platform.

"Did you get his phone, Randy?" she said.

"Right here, Maria," he waved the device.

No masks. Unbothered about using their names. Imagine how much faster my chest bounced when I realized what this meant. I wasn't a criminal mastermind, but that screamed something bleak about my chances of survival. I knew I didn't imagine that clicking noise, either. The gun two feet from my face was very much loaded.

I never thought about my death. I was 16. The last thing I expected was someone telling me how I might die one day. That's what Maria did. "Here's how this is going to go, kid. We need the Death Coin from the girl. You're going to help us get it. How? Nice and easy, that's how. A good old-fashioned swap. You. For the coin. Or else."

"What's the passcode?" Randy barked.

"Passcode?" I said, dizzily.

"To your phone! Hellooooo!" Each tap of the phone to my temple tripled the pain. Those two couldn't have been more different. He was the brainless brute with a lanky body. A perfect servant to this chic woman and her gun.

"Calm down, Randy," she said. Her attention rediscovered me in the next moment, "The passcode to your phone. We need to contact her. I'll countdown from three—"

"Billion? There's an idea," I suggested. "Let me. Two billion nine hundred and ninety-nine..."

The barrel moved to my knee. I froze.

"...Three."

"Chill! Chill, chill, chill!"

"...Two," she continued. Her finger went on the trigger. "One."

HOLD UP!

We need to talk about something. It's called adrenaline.

I'm sure you've heard a story or two about it. Like, it's some sort of miracle chemical, granting super strength to those in need. Well, so much adrenaline was in my body right now I couldn't feel my toes. But I curled them. I curled them so tight, I clenched my jaw, too. Everything going into breaking free.

But that didn't work, so I tried—

BANG!

So much happened at once.

My throat released a sound so shrill it strained my vocal cords. And the pain. Ah, man, that pain. The best way to describe it would be like if someone put a metal pipe into a fire. Then left it. They let it get so hot the color went blueish white in a single spot. Then, they aligned this spot with your knee and swung as hard as possible; so hard the metal exploded. Dozens of sharp bits tearing through the flesh, melting into the bone.

The experience would leave you numb. Without a single steady breath in your sweaty body. The sticky trickle of a fluid called blood, that would be the only proof you lived. You'd feel it move down your leg, into your socks, into your shoes. Shoes soaked in a pool of the same red splatter. That's what it was like.

"Talk about brutal," Randy laughed.

Clicccck...

The gun moved to my other knee. "Again?" Maria wondered. She was talking to the top of my head, still wet from the splash. I couldn't do it. I didn't have the strength to lift my face. There was no way to share those six numbers, even if I wanted to. My captor took this as defiance. The countdown began again.

"Three... Two..."

"Fire in the hole," Randy said.

My eyes were shut at this point; I was ready for another ear-ringing sound. But there in the darkness, something found me. A voice. Alice's voice. Rather, the memory of Alice's voice. I'd forgotten something so fast...

In front of the church...

"Nema."

"Who's that, Alice?"

Her head shook. "Not a who. It's a word. It's the way you can send messages to Death. 'N-E-M-A'. 'Nema'. It's spelled the opposite of 'amen'. Should be easy enough to remember."

"Huh, never knew that," I sounded impressed. "Who'd try to contact Death?"

"Mostly nobody," she said. "Most people don't know how. Lucky for us. Gives us a way to stay in contact. Don't go blabbing it. I don't want to deal with a bunch of voices in my head, ok? I'm serious about this."

Those memories gave me the slightest hope. My eyes were already closed. My head was already down. I had absolutely nothing to lose, apart from another kneecap, so you can bet I tried it. As I did— BANG!

My eyes squeezed as tight as possible. I waited for the pain, but what I heard was the sound of Maria's voice. Confused, she said, "What the..." The bullet never touched me. The hot metal had turned to ash.

"Excuse me—"

That voice. My face swung up.

WATCH OUT FOR THE CLIFFF!!! I'M SOOOOOORRRRYYYY LOOOOOL

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