Separate, p.17
Separate, page 17
Krasue had attempted to consume Na. Because of that, Na understood it. Krasue seethed with envy—a more precise word than hunger. Saul was the same, a madman jealous of something no one had. Like the empty woman’s, Saul’s body contained energy. His energy had strength and intensity, vitality, and within it, Na beheld threads. They deserve each other.
Na reached her left hand out and plunged it inside Krasue, who was fixated on Na’s healthy body. It howled unpleasantly with a mixture of ecstasy and rage. Inside, Na touched the frayed remains of tethers, strands that had once bound this rotted soul to humanity. With her right, Na deftly, gently plucked a strand from Saul. He twitched as if a muscle had twanged from an old strain but maintained his guard and kept his eyes on the other three.
Surprisingly easily, without effort or tension, Na drew her hands together and intertwined the separate threads. They spliced readily, a sign the two yearned to be greater. Krasue turned, stared directly into Na’s spiritual face, and exorbitantly smiled. Na dropped the tether in disgust. It spun and retracted back into place within Saul. Saul now owned two souls.
The splice was unnatural, and Saul bore the brunt of the sin. Krasue interwove with him, devouring his vitality and fusing with his fibers. The two did not wholly merge; they remained apart within the same house. Saul’s body jerked and shook from the conflict inside it, and he tossed himself onto the floor. The scalpel skittered away. Doug, Dr. Elmir, and Taryn waited for him to stop flailing, ready to pounce. But he did not stop swinging, so they stayed back by the entrance, away from Na.
52
Na could not repossess herself yet. Unable to speak through her own mouth or the old woman’s shell, she waited and hoped for an opportunity to shut down Saul’s devices. They still can’t see me?
Saul’s squirming preoccupied Dr. Elmir and Doug, leaving Taryn to approach the physical Na first. She began to undo the restraints. As soon as Taryn unbuckled Na’s torso, Na dove elbow-deep into her uninjured shoulder. Taryn leapt backward. Okay, she can now, maybe.
The resistance Na felt earlier had subsided; she was not instantly rejected. That first dose of Saul’s concoction had to have been small. Na struggled to make her physical self sit up. It was futile. In her detached state, the necessary movement was too great. Heaving her limp body to the device’s switch amounted to deadlifting a soggy bale of hay. Mid-strain, the device clicked off. Na caught a glimpse of Taryn by the wall, holding a cord. Just as the power cut off, Na ragdolled back home to her body at last. Bleary from unconsciousness and mentally exhausted, she welcomed them with a cough. “Thanks.”
“Are you all right?” called Dr. Elmir.
“Ungh.” Na gingerly sat up, cradling her right elbow with her left hand. “Yes. No. My arm hurts because of him. It. Them.”
Doug slid to the ground and panted. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he huffed. “I might be sick.”
Dr. Elmir abandoned his station near the door and strode to Taryn’s side. “What did you do to that bastard, exactly?”
“Could you tell? I kind of joined them, Saul and Krasue. He made me go there”—Na glanced shakily—“in her and tried to trap me. He wanted to steal my body. The woman, that poor woman, she’s alive, but she’s dead. He killed her.” Tears fell onto Na’s lap.
“And then?” Dr. Elmir pressed.
Na wiped her eyes. “Krasue kept coming after me, no matter where I was. I had to stop them both. So I tied them together. In the other world. Spiritually.”
Taryn’s face expressed pure bewilderment. Dr. Elmir patted her back. “Thank you, Taryn, for all of your help. I couldn’t have found Rojana without you. Or you, Doug.”
Doug lifted himself off the floor. “Na, I . . .” He reconsidered his phrasing and wiped his brow. “Yeah. Sure. This guy should have treated his employees better if he wanted to hide his secret, off-limits lab.” Doug jingled a crowded keyring. “Especially from someone who knows most everyone in town.” His demeanor changed back as he asked, “Um, Na? That was you, in the woman, then?”
“Yes.”
“You looked a little like it. Krasue. Not like you,” he stuttered. “Less, I don’t know, healthy? Living?” Words poured out. “You were black and dead and I thought he’d killed you and we were hours too late. That I’d never get to hold you.”
Na, spent and incapable of running to him, stayed silent on the bed and outstretched her arms. Doug walked to her and they embraced. I missed you too.
“Remember, we don’t see everything here. This is the real world, right?” Dr. Elmir clarified. “That’s just how it is. We can’t really see what things look like until we’re there ourselves. Na is fine, one hundred percent normal, right?”
Na smiled weakly in appreciation, uncertain whether Dr. Elmir believed what he said or if he was just being supportive. Maybe, by now, he’d reached the same conclusion as Saul, that she wasn’t Rojana by birth. I’ll never know for sure, will I?
A familiar jolt ran through Na’s arm as a distant voice reverberated in Na’s head: Cotèl. The Toulouse ghost took advantage of the relative peacefulness and shimmered into the room. Largely obscured by a bright ceiling light, just its faint outline was visible as it descended onto Taryn.
“No!” Na shouted. Doug and Dr. Elmir reflexively hopped backward.
It ignored Na and enveloped Taryn, crushing her onto the ground. Now a puppet master, it commanded her to grasp the scalpel and insulted them through her quaking lips: “Pecador! Pecador!”
Dr. Elmir latched on to Taryn to extricate her, momentarily stunning the specter. The Toulouse ghost fought back. It swung widely, slicing Dr. Elmir across his chest. Blood seeped through his split clothing.
Doug avoided the blade by tumbling sideways onto the wall and catching himself.
Na rose to meet the Toulouse attacker. Partially separating again by choice, she greeted the ghost on its own terms.
It hesitated. Its hollowed sockets eyed her carefully.
That’s right. I’m like you. Better. Stronger. Na proclaimed her intention. You—she raised one hand toward it—are next. With the other hand, she aimed a finger at the wriggling Saul. I’ll make you like him.
It did not reply. Na worried she had not projected her thoughts loudly or clearly enough to be heard. Instead, it froze. Then it responded by releasing Taryn. Before dissipating, it hissed once more, Pecador. Cotèl.
Once again, Na rejoined the living world. She put her arm around Taryn and helped her to her feet. Taryn gasped a few times and caught her breath. “I’m alright,” Taryn said.
“My friends,” Doug suggested, concerned about Dr. Elmir’s wound, “the assistants. Take him to the assistants. They’ll find nurses. They’re not all bad. They’re not part of this.”
“Right.” Taryn gave a thumbs-up. She put Dr. Elmir’s arm over her back and, along with Doug, carried Dr. Elmir out of the room.
Whole, tired, and changed, Na sullenly shuffled behind them. She did not spare an ounce of pity for Saul, who continued writhing, confined inside a self-contained prison.
Epilogue
On their parting, Dr. Elmir was not ready to leave Milton. He winked at Taryn and shook hands with Chief Rawls, saying, “Criminal investigations are out of my depth, and you’ve got a stack of cases to sort. I’ll get out of your hair, at least for today. But I’m here if you need me for anything, and I’ll return soon.”
Later, during the first leg of their drive home, Na nagged him about not hugging Taryn. His excuse was the tender cut stitched closed across his chest.
Doug had not come to see them off, and Na did not blame him. Of course, he could have neglected Stuffs for just another couple of hours if he had wanted to, but both he and Na had a lot to unpack from the previous days. Dr. Elmir noted his absence and mentioned to Na that he planned to encourage Doug to attend their university.
That night, they stayed at the same halfway motel as they had before, on their way to Milton. Doug sent her a message: “Busy here but will text you later, k?”
Swiftly, Na replied, “Np. I’m here, only for you.”
In the car for the second leg of their trip home, Dr. Elmir was less upbeat. “This is my fault, Na. I didn’t imagine the possibility that you’d be put in danger like that. Or that my work could be abused in such a way. I’m thinking of changing my current academic focus, away from spiritual mechanics to an area less exploitable, like foreknowledge. That’s an ability we saw no evidence of in Milton, right? And the university will provide you with counseling, as much as you need for as long as you need. Doug too. There’s no shame in seeing a therapist, no matter what the issue is. I’m having nightmares of my own, and I witnessed less than half of what you did.”
Lying on her back in her bedroom weeks later, her right arm heavily scarred but functionally recuperated, Na sketched, circled, and scribbled over courses she might want to take next quarter. What now? The registration deadline was nearing, and like it or not, she had reached the point in her education when she needed to decide what, or who, to become. Scratch that. I know who I am. That bastard lied. Forget what he said. What’s more, it was impossible to keep her family safe from the threats she’d met; their menace was eternal. No degree kept demons at bay. Never mind. I’ll wait for Doug to get his schedule, take a course with him. Freshmen get priority registration. I’ll talk to him tonight. She grinned.
Na tossed the notepad onto her bed. I can’t delay choosing a major much longer, though. Maybe I’ll know what to pick in an hour. She sprang up from bed and yelled, “Mom, what are you cooking?”
THE END
Alan Wright, Separate
