Friday, 14 November 2014

THE SIXTH GUEST: Chapter Seven - Part Eight



Clare bashed open the front door and hurried down the kinked hallway to the kitchen. Mike entered the porch behind her but loitered there.

She opened one drawer after another, fumbling through, until she found what she was looking for then went on searching until she’d got the other things. When she returned to Mike in the porch she was carrying two pairs of oven gloves (one of which had seen better days), an oven tray, a torch and a serrated carving knife. Mike looked at that last item quizzically until she shrugged and said, “Just in case.”

They closed the front door after them then walked back to the alley two doors down, Clare pulling ahead, Mike more wary.

Back in the alleyway it was still there where they’d left it but it seemed as though the process they’d witnessed initially had gone further along.

Clare handed Mike the rest of the items then turned on the torch and shone it down.

What was left of the bearded man was illuminated in the parched beam. The batteries were a way off being drained but they were on the decline leaving dim colours framed by deep shadow, but it was definitely him. His remains.

It looked like he’d... “It’s like he split open,” said Clare. “Look.” She pointed at the multiple splits on his chest and torso; even on his face. “And there wasn’t anything. Look.” She squatted. “There’s nothing inside of him. Just embers.”

She looked back up at Mike but the reflected torchlight didn’t reach him sufficiently now her night vision had been ruined. She turned the torch on him but he didn’t react; just went on staring dully down at the cadaver, or whatever it was.

“Mike.”

He made no response.

“Mike.”

“Huh? Yeah?” The animation returned to his features. “This is really messed up.”

“What do you make of it?”

“You mean, do I think he was really God?”

She nodded, curling her lower lip in on itself with her upper teeth.

“Fucked if I know.” He chuckled.

“What?”

“You know what this is like... It’s like watching a TV show, something gritty and down to earth – a police drama. You watch seven or eight seasons and it’s all just normal; they’re solving murder mysteries; and suddenly in the next season there’s an alien invasion or something. Or vampires attack. In a horror film it’s as if that world depicted has only just blinked into existence. You know exactly what it is from the get go. All this shit that’s happened today... These things don’t happen. How the hell are we supposed to know how to react?”

Clare went on looking at him for a minute then turned the torch back down to the glowing remains.

It was exactly like he’d ripped open all over his body and all his insides had just risen up and disappeared.

Or maybe he didn’t have insides. Maybe he’d been empty all along; just full of energy. And that was why it was burning up now. It was far too hot to touch.

“Give me some oven gloves,” said Clare.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Just hand them to me. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Clare seriously. This is a terrible plan. We should go back inside.”

“Give me the damn oven gloves Mike!”

He handed her the newer pair. They were green with tangled yellow flowers. Clare popped the little torch in her mouth then put them on.

“Now hold this and give me the knife and the baking tray.” She handed up the torch.

“Take a picture. Take a picture then call the police. We shouldn’t be dealing with this by ourselves.” He cleared his throat. She said nothing; just held out her hands. Mike sighed and passed her the stuff.

Clare set the metal tray down and rested her wrists on her knees. The heat coming off the remains was incredible and it looked like it was burning away from the inside out. The edges where the skin had split were glowing brightly and just in the time they’d been there a lot of it had gone. She had the feeling that even if they did call the police it would all be gone by the time they arrived. Clare put the knife to the smouldering flesh near the top of the chest, at the point the split cut diagonally down his pectoral.

Now she was here with the stuff she didn’t have a clue what she was really going to do. Just touching the blade lightly to his skin made the chest cavity cave in releasing a gust of embers into the night air. Cracks formed, light shining through and then it folded in on itself fully. The little patch of grass against the wall that it was lying on caught fire and fizzled to nothing.

Clare got to her feet, stepping back. “I just thought if we could save some of it...”

The pelvis crackled and sparked, releasing smoke. The ribboned folds that had been the man’s legs started to smoulder as well.

Clare stepped back beside Mike. They watched it burning itself away.

“It can’t be true what he said, can it?” asked Clare.

Mike said nothing.

“Is this really happening. Was that really him? Surely...” She shrugged. “Surely it’s a mistake. It’s something else. It can’t be real... right?”

Mike faced her for a moment, his face blank, then he looked back down at the crackling remains, and they stood there watching until it was nothing but embers and ash.