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.
