Whispers

Accidents

Slumped forward on a bench, arms on his knees, Lucius contemplated how he’d ended up an hour away from home. He was sure he had concentrated enough on the exact location he had wanted, yet here he sat, on a bench shaded by a magnolia tree, facing the main road across from a hospital. His internal GPS had conked out it seemed. He didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned. He’d used up the last of his energy, bringing with it a kind of buoyancy he’d heard associated with the Fade. He’d stretched himself too thin. That morning, when he checked his energy levels, he’d severely miscalculated everything.

A woman walking a poodle gave him a half-hearted version of a concerned citizen. “Are you alright, young man?” she asked.

Lucius glanced up at her and squinted. Was he visible? What? He scrambled to put on some sort of expression that passed for normal. For a human, anyway.

“I’m fine, ma'am,” he whispered, voice an inch away from the grave.

The poodle eyed him suspiciously.

Lucius had to resist the urge to flick a ping of energy he couldn't spare at the canine snob.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” the woman suggested, but her face said something along the lines of “I should’ve minded my own business.”

“Look, lady,” Lucius said, “it's obvious you don't really want to help me. And you won't be of any help anyway. Now, move along with your anorexic dog and leave me alone.”

“Well, I—” She sniffed then harrumphed and yanked at her dog’s leash, which caused the animal to yip.

Lucius returned to figuring out the logistics of getting home and how to conceal his presence again. This was beyond bad. He needed to siphon residual energy as soon as possible. The hospital provided souls, but he needed to immerse himself fully, and the only place that contained enough souls, stored there by his caretaker, awaiting transport, was his basement. Unfortunately, all he had strength for was to sit without falling over. Or maybe it was fortunate after all. Maybe this was what he was waiting for, his get-out-of-here-free card. He had admitted to himself of needing a vacation, he just hadn’t imagined it would be the most permanent kind.

After a labored breath, he took a moment to wonder what it meant for a whisperer to die. Or in his case, fade away. Was there a special place for beings like him? Or would he just disappear and never return?

“Is this it?” he asked himself, tilting his head up to watch the sky change from pinch pink to bruise purple. “How could I have been so careless?”

The question intrigued him. If only he had time to reflect on it further. He’d lived many lifetimes over. When it all began he had enjoyed what his life had to offer. He grew into himself, learning what it meant to be a whisperer. The power he accumulated in time eventually found him at the top of the pile. He couldn’t even remember the last time a new whisperer had joined the top ten.

Then, and he wasn’t quite sure when his days and nights started looking the same. Different decades. Different eras. But everything remained the same. He’d seen countless wars. Have reaped all those souls. He’d driven the first car on a whim. Watched man land on the moon. Observed the bursting of the dot-com bubble. He'd seen the world change many times over, became a witness to the evolution of society. He should have been excited, happy, eager to wake up every morning with the knowledge that he did his job well. But as he sat on the increasingly uncomfortable bench, he found himself asking, “What do I have to live for?”

“Excuse me?” a voice like it came from the heavens swathed him in comfort. “Are you alright? Excuse me? Can you hear me?”

“What does it mean to be alive?” he asked the girl who had spoken with an urgency he couldn’t quite understand the purpose for.

“To be alive? You’re not making any sense.”

“Just answer the question.”

A long pause made him think she'd left him to his fate. He'd never thought of himself as suicidal, but there was always a first for everything. He had to laugh at that. A suicidal whisperer. How ludicrous. But, then again, did whisperers have whisperers of their own? Was someone speaking to him? Suggesting that he keep fading?

Then his salvation came as the words: “To live is to choose. But to choose well, you must know who you are and what you stand for, where you want to go and why you want to get there.”

He barked a laugh he had no strength for. “Quoting Kofi Annan at me?”

“Off the top of my head, it's better than nothing!” She slapped him on the shoulder. “Open your freakin' eyes! Hey! Hey! You can’t die here!”

At her request, he opened eyes he hadn't known had shut. Strands of fiery hair lost none of their luster, even in the fading light. His angel had come to take him away, to save him from the pathetic existence of his own making. Sending him off with Kofi Annan quotes.

He reached out a two-ton hand and caressed a lock that dangled off her shoulder while she studied him. His fingers slid effortlessly through the zibeline tresses.

“You have such beautiful hair,” he whispered.

She flushed.

He sighed, catching himself thinking if she was the last being he ever saw then maybe he had glimpsed heaven.

“Hey, hey!” She tapped his cheek like a drum. “Open your eyes. Please. Open your eyes.”

When he didn't respond fast enough, she began pulling him off the bench.

He groaned, the weight of the ages begging him to stay seated. The voices in his head screamed for some reason. He thought they’d be happy he was fading away. Fickle noises.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you to the hospital.” She put his arm around her shoulders and proceeded to tug him across the street.

“No.” He managed to plant his feet firmly on the sidewalk to hamper their progress. “No!”

She whirled her head to stare at him skeptically. “You're gray! I've never seen anyone that color before. Don't shake your head at me. It's clear you need medical help. You can't even stand on your own.”

The distress on her face renewed his resolve to live. “Please, take me home.”

“I don't think going to my house—” She paused and thought about it. “Oh, you mean your house.”

“Do you know the way?”

Uncertainty replaced her concern. She cleared her throat. “What will going to your house do that a hospital can't?”

“Trust me. Fifty-one Oak Park Lane, Blackwood. Do you know where that is?” A spasm erupted in his chest, causing him to stumble. She steadied him before he face-planted on the pavement.

“We need to hurry,” he gasped out. “Please. I don't know how much longer I can last.”

The bus out of the city arrived.

“Come on.” She hustled them to the street corner. “We need to catch that bus.”

Lucius gathered what little strength he could muster and aided the girl with fiery hair in getting them on the vehicle. When they stumbled up the steps, the driver studied them dubiously.

“Shouldn't you two be heading for the hospital?” he asked.

The girl reached into her pocket and paid the fare.

“Nah,” she said. “He just needs to sleep it off.”

She imitated swigging an imaginary bottle.

Lucius would have laughed at her attempt at sullying his reputation, but he could no longer feel his legs. Not that any of them knew who he was, let alone what he was. But, nevertheless, he found the situation amusing.

The driver shook his head and muttered something about “kids these days” while shutting the door with a turn of a lever.

The five other passengers eyed them. Some with curiosity. Others with dismay. The bus lurched forward before Lucius and his angel could take their seat. The girl used the momentum to heave Lucius onto a bench and nudged him closer to the window with her hip.

Once they got on the interstate, she said, “What’s your name?”

“Lucius,” he rasped out.

It felt quite odd to be sharing his name with a human. He’d been so used to anonymity. Of being unseen. Even this close to death, he still learned something new about himself. He actually liked that someone besides the other whisperers and his caretaker who knew his name.

“Well, Lucius, are you sure about this?”

He took a minute to process her words. His head debated whether to stay attached to his neck or take its chances and run. It lolled to the side precariously.

“Yes,” he breathed out. “Thank you.”

“Don't.” She stared straight ahead. “Don't thank me yet.”

His head found salvation on her shoulder. He breathed in the sweet watermelon scent of her shampoo. It reminded him of summer.

The voices turned mute for the first time in centuries. It was like they all stared at the girl who stiffened for a second before relaxing into the contact. As if they wanted to know what would happen next.

“Lucius?” she asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” Lucius relished the sudden silence. If being with her gave him peace from all the incessant whispering in his head then he never wanted them to separate.

“I don't want to alarm you or anything,” she continued in a quick murmur, “but your hand just disappeared.”

Lucius opened one eye so fast his world spun for a second. He glanced down without moving his head from her shoulder. A morbid grin tugged at his lips. His left hand had indeed disappeared.

“Well, isn't that nice,” he said.

“Nice?” Her voice climbed an octave.

“Shhh. You don't want the others to hear.” He used his still present right hand to squeeze her thigh. “Calm down. I'll be fine. Just get me home.”

“But we're still forty minutes out. What's happening to you?”

“I'm fading.”

“I'd say there's no such thing, but your hand’s gone.” She squirmed.

For a human, she was taking things in stride, considering. Lucius squeezed her thigh one more time, unsure if he wanted to stop her jarring movement or to feel that she still sat beside him. He decided on the latter.

“What’s your name?” he asked in an effort to get her mind off his current circumstance.

“K-K-Karina,” she stammered.

“Karina,” he tested, liking the way it sounded.

What a beautiful, beautiful name. Befitting his savior. She blinked twice at him in wonder. Indeed, her name on his lips sounded as sweet as he thought it would be.

But he was too tired, too worn out to think of anything else, so he said, “I'm having a hard time gathering my thoughts. Please, keep quiet. I'll close my eyes for a second and rest. Wake me when we're home.”

By the time Karina dragged Lucius up the steps of his front porch, he'd been half delirious. Shakes and sweat rolled off him. He'd babbled incoherently, moving in and out of consciousness. Every beat of his heart radiated new pulses of pain through his body. At one point, he heard her ring the doorbell and pound on the antique door.

“Hello,” she yelled. “Is anyone home? Please help! Help!”

She pushed at the doorbell incessantly.

In a moment of clarity, Lucius asked, “Who are you calling to?”

“Oh God, your fever's getting worse.” Karina tightened her grip around his waist.

The door swung open with no one at the other side. Lucius cringed—another wave of gut-twisting agony playing stab-the-knife-on-the-whisperer rammed into his insides—as Karina dragged him into the foyer. His left arm had completely vanished along with part of his right leg up to the knee and his right arm up to the elbow. Holding on to Karina and keeping upright at the same time brought the gymnast out of him.

“Hello!” Karina called out again. The word echoed. “We could really use some help here! Hello!”

Shamus materialized before them like a picture fading in.

“Sir,” he said, anxiety marring his usually passive features.

Karina yelped and stumbled back, almost falling over with Lucius in tow. “You only have half your legs! And I can see right through you!”

“Not important right now,” Lucius slurred.

“Sir, what is this human doing in your domain?” Shamus hovered closer.

Karina’s arm trembled as she pointed at his caretaker. “Stay where you are or I swear . . . uh, I don’t exactly know what I’ll do. So, please, stay there!”

“Shamus!” Lucius tried for a command but only came up as a hoarse murmur.

“Come.” The caretaker motioned and floated away.

“What? Where?” Karina still sounded spooked.

“Just follow me, child. I will not harm you.” Shamus waved her forward. “He needs to be brought to the basement.”

After a second’s hesitation, Karina moved. Lucius felt the tremors running over her body. Her touch turned clammy. But his angel persevered. If he could only gain clarity of mind again for a minute he’d spend those sixty seconds admiring her beauty. Instead, he wanted to puke his soul out. No one had informed him that the Fade wasn't as painless as it sounded.

“The basement?” Karina adjusted her hold on him. “Shouldn't we be bringing him to a doctor?”

“Trust me, child,” Shamus said over his shoulder. “He needs to be in the basement.”

Karina frowned, saying nothing else. She followed the apparition before her with quiet intent. Lucius groaned and attempted to lift his head only to fail like a miserable drunk at it. They passed a long hallway filled with evenly-spaced sconces that cast watchful shadows along the floor and ceiling.

“This way.” Shamus veered left. “Hurry.”

“I don't see you trying to help,” Karina grumbled.

“I would if I could. But I cannot come near or he will suck me dry. The most I can do is leading you to the basement.”

“Remind me to ask you to explain what the freak is going on here later.” The fear in Karina's voice steered Lucius.

“Don’t panic,” he said, his voice was small and strange to his ears.

“Too late for that. You know how the words ‘don’t panic’ never work? Well, this is more than what my weird quotient can handle.”

Shamus opened a door and moved aside. “Down there.” He pointed at a set of steps that led into blind darkness.

Karina stood by the door, knees shaking. “You want me to bring him down there?”

“Hurry, if you please.” Shamus gestured at the stairs.

“But I won't be able to see after five steps down.”

“I will provide illumination.”

Lucius moaned.

“We are losing him. Please, child.”

The abject worry on the floating apparition’s austere face had Karina steeling herself as best she could with a solemn swallow. She proceeded to climb down the steps. And like a switch being flipped, a ball of white light bobbed over her shoulder.

At the landing, she eased toward the last set of steps to the basement floor and paled. Nine shadows swayed like dead trees in a roaring wind. They all stared into space, oblivious to anyone or anything around them. Karina screamed. She dropped Lucius on the landing, producing a sickening thud.

Shamus appeared beside her and said, “Your help is very much appreciated.”

Then he flicked his hand and an unseen force lifted Karina up the stairs, down the hall, through the foyer, and out the door.

Lucius, with the last of his strength, reached out for the space Karina once occupied before Shamus sent her away. She’d taken the calm in his head with her. The voices screamed, deafening every other thought he formed. If this was his end, he decided he didn’t want any part of it.