HDA - Falsehood by Ocean Chapter 23

Come here, my star is fading…

And I swerve out of control…

I swear, I waited and waited

I got to get out of this hole

-Cold Play, Amsterdam, A Rush of Blood to the Head, 2002, EMI Records

Blurry patches of colors focused into crude shapes and forms gradually before his eyes. He was a little too far away thus he took a few steps forward to bring clarity to the annoyingly hazy moving picture.

Not feeling his own weight, not having the conscious need to breathe, he thought he was floating and suddenly, he was aware that he was in some sort of a concert hall or a theatre. Baffled, he took a seat on a plush, cushioned armchair- dark red against the pale white floor.

Drops of blood on the snow.

Being the sole audience in the theatre, it was easy for him to catch the hollow screams that reverberated off the walls. The acoustics in this theatre were so amazing, he thought the scream came from within him.

The scream continued; the scream sounded familiar. He shook his head and willed himself to concentrate on the stage and the actors on it. A horror play seemed to be staging because the scream was blood-curdling and he could smell the copper stench of blood. A black blob separated into two figures before his eyes and as the colors became more vivid and distinct, the screams became moans and gradually, they stopped.

A table visualized on the stage. A table with a man strapped on it. Human instinct caused to want to shout at the actors to not take their craft too seriously for the man seemed injured. He did yell but no one heard him. The man was oddly familiar too- his face a sculpture of torture; his blond hair shone a sheen of whiteness streaked with crimson.

More drops of blood smeared the snow.

Lijah. Lijah…

Hurrying forth down the stairs of the theatre to the stage, he smacked right into an elastic cocoon wall which retreated against his force but snapped back immediately, throwing him onto the black ground. Black ground- the theatre was gone and he was a fallen soldier on a transparent floor suspended in the deep orbits of the galaxy, watching, with stunned emerald mirrors, the terrible scene on the stage which was now a freezing asteroid hanging in the deep, consuming blackness.

And hapless. He was hapless.

***

Lynn paced up and down the hospital corridor, just outside Isaiah’s room. She did not like hospitals. Hospitals brought hope but they also witnessed the deaths of many hopes.

You can’t think morbid thoughts now. Isaiah will rouse. He will wake up and everything will be fine. The noose around his head is not tightened yet. He’s not suspended in air. He will live.

And when he wakes up, he’ll definitely kill me and Gray Man.

A kindly, middle-aged nurse came up to her then, disrupting her flow of thoughts. She had a twinkle in her eyes- eyes that were youthful as opposed to young, with crowfeet at the sides that loan her an air of wisdom. The twinkle in her eyes was a cheery one- like stars on a lonely night. Lynn’s heart pounded. She had paged for Gray, since mobiles were not allowed to be switched on in that part of the hospital where ICU wards, with their sensitive equipments were close by. The radio-waves may interfere with those life-saving machines and there was no way she could live with herself if tomorrow’s headlines was, "Man dies in ICU because Girlfriend’s Mobile Went Off."

"My call?" She asked, unable to disguise her blatant anticipation as anything else and probably sounding as loud as a booming thunder in the quiet section where a pin dropping on the floor could be mistaken for the rumbling of an infant earthquake. It better be a call for her and it better be from Gray. Not only that, Gray had better announce good news.

"Isaiah’s indisposed right now. Can I take a message? Hello? Who’s that?"

"Elijah."

He had answered after such a long pause and it was Isaiah’s mobile he called. He must be missing his brother so much that he forgotten Isaiah’s still in dreamland. Why Elijah? Why can’t you wait for Gray to check out Danny’s house with you?

"Yes, Miss Wen. Please, follow me…" The nurse placed a finger on her own lips but the gesture was not particularly reproaching, just, well, kind. Her motherly smile and those sparkling eyes made Lynn felt at ease and thus, she stilled her heart, fearing if she had not disturbed the patients with her sharp, echoing question, the pounding in her heart would sure irritated the hell out of them.

Maybe that’s a good idea. Isaiah may wake up if I make a lot of noise. I am good at causing a racket.

Lynn had tried calling Elijah many times after their phone call was cut off unexpectedly due to his mobile’s waning battery power. She had warned him to wait for Gray first, hadn’t she? If so, why was she feeling like the most treacherous traitor in the whole wide world? Guilt gnawed at her- she should not have left Elijah’s side. He did not really sexually harassed her, more than anything else, he seemed lost in his own world and probably mistaken her for someone else from his past. Yet, that was no excuse for him to take liberties with her right? However, she felt like she had deserted a tottering comrade, at least one that was teetering off the edge of a ravine in his mind, and that was tantamount to just leaving someone to face danger all alone with no help.

After several recorded messages of "We’re not getting a response from the subscriber’s mobile phone. Please try again and have a nice day", Lynn dashed into Gray’s office, despite what he ordered all agents to do- that was to leave him alone to talk to their shadow commanders. It was two hours since Elijah went off sweeping Danny’s house for clues because he was not convinced that Danny was the true mastermind behind the killings. There was another girl involved and he suspected, another person working and coordinating behind the scenes. Elijah had not called back to check in and she was worried. Woman’s intuition probably, nonetheless, waiting for his call had worked her up in a nail-biting frenzy. And she was not even a nail biter.

Gray Man, upon hearing her recounting of the terse telephone exchange she had with Elijah, immediately whispered hush explanations into the telephone, disconnected the call and phoned Eaeshore Police, something she wanted to slap her head for not doing so in the first place. After doing so, they waited again for Jacob Stern to get back to them. When he did, it was with the worst, stomach-sinking news Lynn ever received in her entire life, besides Isaiah’s comatose condition.

Danny’s house was ransacked and Elijah’s car was found several houses down but he was nowhere to be seen. A second set of car tires marks were also observed and Gray immediately set off for Eaeshore.

She reached the Nurses’ Counter and the kind lady passed her the receiver. She thanked the nurse quickly as her hand held the cold metal in a vise grip, afraid of the news it might bring and yet, knowing she had to hear it.

"Gray? Is that you? Have you found Elijah?" The series of question hissed out from her lips before she could even formulate them in her mind. She was wishing for something good for once. The two brothers had suffered through too much and there was no need for Elijah to have to come to more trouble. The split second pause between the questions and Gray’s answer told her too much. It revealed tons of horrible news and helplessness. What could she tell Isaiah? Isaiah would never forgive himself if Elijah should lose his life.

Or be hurt again.

If something terrible happened to Elijah, maybe it’s better that Isaiah never wakes up so he’ll never get to learn it because I’ll never have to tell him.

The appalling thought surfaced on her mind, accelerating her breathing with shame at giving recognition to the ideas that spewed from the dark spring in her mind. A spring that bubbled and boiled oily, black waters, emitting toxic fumes of ghastly colors. Most managed to keep a lid on the spring, others even dried it up.

Some, though, fell in.

"No… we have no idea where he is but the police had sped up investigation and they have determined the foreign tire marks to have come from a Honda. The problem is Eaeshore is crawling with Japanese’s cars and the number, I can tell you, is too much for us to pin down any suspicious cars." Gray Man’s voice sounded a little too distant and Lynn felt so alone then.

"God…"

"Sorry, not here with me. Much as I dislike Elijah, I really want nothing to happen the kid, that somehow he just felt like splitting. He does seem to be that kind, right? Doing as he pleases, going as he wishes…" Gray sighed, his breath heavy with too much worries. "But somehow, I don’t think so."

"Gray…"

"Yup, that’s me. Anyways, Isaiah’s going to be so pissed off. Iggy and Carl are checking Elijah’s rented Toyota for clues. We can’t find his first rented Mustang and Isaiah’s Lexus. We have cleaned up his motel room but the police report is gone. Though we have retrieved his memos and assorted notes and knick knacks plus his notebook, so far… zilch, unless you count an email he sent to his old partner in FBI, asking about the first serial killer and being told to speak to a Special Agent Blie. Do you think you can do that, Lynn?" Gray might be a veteran but he sounded too detached and methodical for Lynn’s patience. However, in the space of time and silence she took to answer him, she thought she heard the crunching of nails from the other side of the line.

And just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

"Yes, I can." Lynn promised, chastised by her initial judgment of Gray.

"And one more thing… Lynn, Danny died." Gray informed her, his tone no more somber than before. He added it in almost like an afterthought. Lynn, upon hearing the piece of sad news; the lost of the main lead to Elijah they had, felt disengaged from reality; all hopes seemed to be lost.

"Danny? How did he died?" She whispered, still unable to believe.

"The guard watching the holding cell was slacking off. Danny bit his own tongue and bled to death. I’ll spare you the graphic visual."

She sucked in a deep breath. Bit off his tongue. She could imagine how painful it must have been- to bite off one’s tongue or to have it bitten off by someone else. Psychopathic thrillers seemed to be obsessed with the biting of tongues. She would holler in pain if she were to just accidentally scrapped the fleshy bed of taste buds with her teeth while eating.

God Bless You, Danny. God Bless You. You’re disturbed and ill. He’ll understand.

Suicide always leave a bitter taste on anyone’s tongue. Tongue. She had to stop thinking about tongues.

"Do you need me to come over? I should have stayed… I shouldn’t…." Lynn berated herself, unable to control the sudden flood of tears that fell too easily for someone who espoused herself to be one tough lady. "Shouldn’t…"

"Lynn, get a grip on yourself…" Gray sounded more human then, like a mentor advising his understudy. "I need you to keep us in touch with home base. For now, if Isaiah’s wakes, don’t tell him about it. In his condition, he will not be able to handle it." Gray Man cautioned her in a fatherly tone but did not absolved her guilt. She nodded, lost for words, yet knowing he could not see her silent answer.

But he must had sensed it, sensed her compliance. "Good. Stay calm. Everything will be fine. We’ll get Elijah. I have to go. Bye."

She nodded again, unable to speak with the guilt choking her. After she heard the call disconnected, she held on to the receiver still; held on to some apparitions of a human contact.

"Miss Wen, are you all right?" The warm, soothing voice caressed her from behind and she felt someone tapped her shoulders. Snapping out of her frightening reverie, she spun around, still clutching receiver. Shaking her head miserably, she was incapable of making out the watery forms before her eyes.

"Come here, child. He’ll wake… I promise. I’m a nurse for so many years… sometimes, we can a feeling about these things."

The motherly nurse embraced her and, with her emotional floodgates torn down, she held on to her human comforter tightly and sobbed like a child, drenching a stranger’s shoulder.

***

Instead of wallowing, he stood up again an clawed at the sticky veil, feeling it hardened under his nails until it morphed into a pseudo glass- smooth, transparent but not breakable. He just knew he could never break it but he pounded hard on it still. The image before him normalized, like someone had knocked the side of a fuzzy television screen and the reception was back in order. He stopped breathing, momentary paralyzed.

He was on the other side, the safe side, watching the going-on on a stage decorated with overturned cartons and empty barrels. His brother, the first entity that he recognized without even having the image starkly clear, was lying on the long, rectangular table modified into some torture bed that was stolen from the Inquisition perhaps. Held down by metal cuffs restraining his wrists and ankles, Elijah was not in any position to save himself. The corners of his lips were leaking blood, like he was a vampire that had just feasted on some other being. Yet, if he was, then he was a vampire about to be staked and in a reverse of fate, the one to be rescued. One of the sapphire gem was swollen- forced closed. His torso…

His torso, whipped- fresh wounds brought to life the old ones with their crimson smears. His hands. When Isaiah saw Elijah’s hands, he knew immediately what his little brother had done to himself- the scars… the swelling, narrow ridges that riddled up and down the pale, defined limbs.

Isaiah wept then. He did not know! He should know…

"NO! You’ll not have him! I can’t let you hurt him! I won’t let you hurt him!" He hollered but his words bounced off the glass panel to mock his ears and deafen him briefly. His impotence to save his brother screamed at him, calling him a wimp; a big, fat failure.

A girl, she seemed familiar- copper blond hair and sun-kissed cheeks. She was bending over Elijah’s head, whispering poisonous words into his ears in too soft a tone for Isaiah to catch. But he could tell her words were damaging for they melted the ice with their flaming tongues.

Another being, a man perhaps, Isaiah could not tell, waved the girl away and stood in the position she did. He was not clear to Isaiah, even when everything around him was. A shifting shadow of malice, he sent chills down Isaiah’s spine- not chills from cowardice fear but chills from fear for his brother.

The shadow played with a lighter in front of Elijah’s eyes. Elijah spat into his face with what little strength he had and the shadow did not even wipe away the spit. It simply stroked Elijah’s hair with one hand before it gripped a chunk of the sunlight locks and very cruelly yanked those pure, golden strands out, pulling out some scalp too for Isaiah saw blood and skin hanging on to the roots of the hair.

Nauseous. Isaiah’s head was spinning. He wanted to puke, feeling like a weakling. Elijah did not even scream. He simply gritted his teeth.

The lighter hovered over Elijah’s eyes again. "See this? I’m so much creative than old, sweet Danny. Danny always made sure the victims died as painlessly as they could and only lost his cool with the priest. But I, I want you to be conscious, aware of the pain your body can bring you and beyond. Aware to the state that all you can think of is the pain and then I’ll end your life for you. Too bad we can’t make you into part of our method to educate the world for what is to come. I’m sure many will be glad to see you go, I may be even doing them a favor. You’ve done so much damage… we can’t stay and play anymore in this pitiful town. But it’s ok. We’re off to something bigger… BIGGER. So, you must suffer. Your mind must not work. You’ll not be even given that privilege. Infidels should not even be allowed to think!"

A man. The shadow’s a man.

The flame dancing on top of the lighter was blue with intense heat. The man leaned over and Isaiah pounded on the glass wall even more frantically. But it was futile. Elijah screamed, no longer suppressing the wails of agony.

And again. And again. And again. Until the sirens of pain became hoarse, ragged croaks and Elijah’s breathing became tortured gasps.

"One last sacrifice, the most important sacrifice which you’ll get to watch. She is so lovely, Magdalene…. Magdalene… you know… Lenny’s mom is also called Magdalene… maybe…" The man whispered something into Elijah’s ears which caused Elijah to clench his hands into fists-useless fists.

The man then laughed eerily and walked away to another long table that had many different kinds of menacing torture instruments laid out on it- a darkly reflected image of a surgeon’s surgical tools. He set the lighter down and approached Elijah again, his face an inch away from the blond victim.

"You know my true motives now? No… I don’t think so… why not I slap some sense into you?"

The man raised a hand and slapped Elijah hard. Looking at his open palm with amazement and then tracing the fingers imprint on the pale, bruised cheek, enjoying the wince on Elijah’s face, the man giggled with a maniacal glee, liking what he had done a lot. He then continued to slap Elijah repeatedly, each flat-palm blows harder than the predecessor until Elijah, breaking finally, passed out.

I need to get out of here. I need to save him. I can’t fail him again, can’t! Can’t!

***

"No… don’t hurt him. Lijah… Lijah don’t cry… come here… I’m here…" Isaiah moaned, the nightmarish images slowly dissipated to nothingness in his mind. Suddenly feeling some weight, his eyelids fluttered open to a comforting darkness.

Where am I? Oh… my head… damn… it hurts…

Lijah! Lijah!

"NO!" He shouted as the vision assaulted his memory in full force. Seeing the whole tormenting scene in fast forward, he struggled, panicky with fear. But someone was pushing him down with restraining hands and he clawed at them, cursing his muscles for being so disobedient; so feeble. "Let me go! I need… I need to find Lijah!"

"Isaiah!" Lynn’s voice, stern and firm, stopped him from scratching at her. As his eyes got accustomed to the lack of light, he weakly turned his head to his left on the soft, alien pillow and saw Lynn about to cry. Her face wrinkled up and her eyes were shining with dimmed wetness.

She took his hands, held it to her face and sobbed. The softness of her skin comforted him but the dampness of her tears drowned his heart.

"Isaiah..."