The Aliveagainers

13 - Voyage

A hot night in summer. A storm rumbles far to the south and there's a distant flicker of lightnin'. “Go time,” she says. Caleb has the car idlin', Trey sits up front, shotgun slung across his legs. Micah opens the door and we get in. Caleb takes us up the 32. Caleb and Trey talk the whole damn way, makin' jokes about everythin', Caleb laughin' that long low way and Trey gigglin' along like a dog tryin' to please its master. Micah sits between us, his big legs splayin' wide open. He smiles every now and then but don't speak. I look across him at her and flash my eyes down, then back. She smiles and we carry on. We come up Morgan Street, Caleb cuts the lights. It's dark out here, just the orange glow of the security lights. The buildin’ comes up and we roll out, me runnin' to the door like Caleb said. I can hear the guys whistle quietly as they move around; Caleb slowly brings the car up. I spray the camera quick, just a thin coatin' to blur it all up, then I get into the lock. It takes me longer than I wanted and I imagine Caleb, eyes gettin' narrow as he starts fumin'. Then I open it, slip inside. I flick my light, flash it in the room and I hear Micah follow me. I find the garage door, flick the switch to manual and then move back and heave up on the chain. It opens slowly. Then the flash and I somethin' hits the door, once, twice, a lot of times. I drop the chain, it slams shut and I feel somethin' whiz by my ear. The sound of gunfire bursts outside and I hear a car race up, tires squealin'. There're screams and I hear Caleb shoutin' and I start runnin'.

Kayla.

Through the darkness I run, nearly trippin' up on somethin' hard as hell that kills my ankle, pain flarin' and bitin' like a snake. I push ahead, the flashlight flickerin' round, me tryin' to aim it ahead. I go up a set of iron stairs and push through a doorway and I fall forwards.

I get up and rub my knees and ankle. I look down, surprised it ain't even hurt at all anymore. I feel around and it's fine. Then I see my flashlight is gone but the room is all lit up. It's not the garage anymore, not that place where I left her.

I'm in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. It's dead quiet and pretty much dark but for a glow that seeps from the top of the landin’. I blink my eyes and stare, the light seems to roll and spill out over the edge, tumblin' down the stairs. It's so damn quiet I can almost hear it. I strain to listen to the waves of light as they spill over me, rockin' me gently. It'd almost be calm 'cept for the waves are red. They make me think of blood, pumpin' through me. I bet they even taste like blood.

Kayla

I stand up, drawn to the voice. Her voice.

I reach out for the bannister, grab hold of it. It's hot, almost fleshy to touch. My hands leave imprints in the wood that clutch at the light.

Above the heat spills outwards and I place my other hand on the wall, steppin' up. It's lighter up there, red and pulsin'. There's a scent in the air I feel like I should remember but I can't.

I move along the stairs, my hands clutchin' the bannister and streamin' along the wall. I let go and for a moment I feel like I'm about to tumble, fall right up the stairs, before I grab hold again, and move up.

Kayla.

I reach the top and pause, the heat up here is insane, like bein' in a car on a hot day. My ears feel like they gonna pop. The heat coats me, paints me, and comes in me, in my mouth and throat and far within. I see the vessels and veins in my arms. I watch the blood within me course through, castin’ a trail in red, a map that never ends. I stumble, weightless. Will I fall to the floor? Will I cut myself and spill that river outwards? What would be left of me when all that blood runs down and out the door?

Stop. Stop.

I feel my eyes rollin’ down, realise I’m half slumped against the wall. And then I sense a presence. Somethin’ else, somethin’ other than this heat and noise.

I know where I should be goin'.

The door is lit from within, bright red and billowy, it seems to rock in its frame, a giant, wooden heart beatin'. I grab the handle and then recoil in shock. It ain't no handle, but a hand! I swear the fingers are movin' just a little. A part of me wants to go back, go downstairs and run outside. But when I turn and look back I can't even see halfway down. There's just a blackness that I know is cold and quiet and final.

I grab the hand and it clenches me tight. I push and the door swings open and I go in.

Késhaun sits on the bed, playin' with some little toy soldiers or figures. He marches one around, talkin' quietly, then makes it land on another and knock it down. Then the two come back around and he brings in a third.

He looks up.

"Hey, Kayla," he says, but his voice don’t come from his mouth so much as it comes from everywhere at once.

The light burns all around him, his skin shinin' from within', castin' a beautiful orange and red glow. His eyes flicker and he flashes me a smile.

"Hey," I say, steppin' in.

The door closes behind me.

"What'cha doin'?" I ask him.

"I'm showing them how to stop them."

"Stop who?"

He frowns and looks down. "The Aliveageiners."

Then I look more closely at the figures and my eyes widen. They ain't toys at all, they look like real people, no more than an inch or two tall. They move and shake in fear as he reaches down and grabs at them, but I can see he holds 'em gentle. Then he reaches round behind his back and pulls out somethin' cold and blue and swirlin'. It floats before them and the little people recoil in fear. But I see him holdin' it somehow, keepin' it where it is.

"What are they, Késhaun?"

There's a silence that seems to last forever till he speaks.

"They're dead, Kayla. And they don't want to be dead. They want to be alive again. And they're mad. They're all really angry."

Then it looks like he's about to let the thing free, when he stops and looks at the window. I turn and see the shadows spillin' in from outside. A swirlin' blue darkness spills in and she sweeps towards me.

Kayla.