He steps around the couch nimbly. Heading back to the
kitchen granite counter where he had placed the knife to be retrieved at his
convenience.
"Many people still believe in it you,
you know".
His voice higher pitched than you would
expect from a man his size. More young professor than asthmatic nerd.
He grabbed the knife and walked to the right, avoiding the hassle of the
coffee table on the other side.
"I mean, you drive around and see these
signs on at night". He reaches her, grabs her wrist and slowly drags her
to the couch with some effort.
"Like, what do they really do right? The idea is they speak to them all
after they are gone. Heaven or hell is regardless they can always contact
them. Either that or they are all blatant liars and if that is the case
that says something about us as a society..."
He adjusts her bound feet and hands a
little for her. Licks his thumb and wipes the dribbles of blood coming
from the cut on her forehead in that patronizing but loving way parents and
guardians are wont to do.
"But let’s tackle it one at a
time", he sits on the living room table, back to the TV, facing her.
"First if they do, they can break the greatest frontier to anyone
alive. We therefore know unequivocally that death is not the end.
That is all fine and dandy but, to tell me you can access this
communi...."
A slight rattle shakes him, making him
cough over his shoulder politely. The TV is showing one of those
helicopter angles of the house which make his gaze linger.
"You know, it looks pretty good from
the air. Not every house does. There is that church in....I'm not
sure where it is but the punch line is it looks like a dick from above".
He turns back to face her. "Google it sometime. But as I was
saying", he leans in, getting focused. "They can access them
anytime you want, meaning either they have no schedule or that time is a fluid
concept yonder. That means screw what the most high or the guy below had
planned for you my friend, you are still at our beck and call".
He absentmindedly places the tip of the
knife to her knee, holding it there by the base of the handle with one finger.
"I mean the arrogance right? Like
even if we could, don't these people deserve an unbothered hereafter?
Nature has taken its steam and we decide no, we still need to know what
to do with your heirloom bedpan". He places the knife in her lap.
"We can be the worst sometimes but the alternative is true too.
If that is all fake, which is my personal stance by the way, then we are
trying to appease guilt and doubt for a price. Is that noble? Is that
swindling? I mean, you still get what you pay for. If you are
willing to pay you already have the propensity to believe so the actor is
getting paid to act and if they have opened a place up odds are you will get
your money’s worth"
He stares at her knee as he says this,
ignoring the bright, white spotlight sweeping through the kitchen.
"But what does that say of us as a
culture that we allow this for either reason. Is feeding adults Santa
Claus levels of fantasy or the ability to startle the passed on healthy?
Is this how you shore up people to be tough in hard times? You
could say it does no harm but neither did tobacco or babies sleeping on their
backs".
He tosses the knife in her lap and stands
up to stretch, leaning side to side and taking a quick look outside. He
could swear he can see the reflection off the goggles under the black helmets.
Closest tree line he thinks. Any minute now. He casually
looks back down at her.
"That last one is a myth by the way
but the point stands. I just feel like life is hard enough as it
is..."
In a room close by there is a muffled thud
and an almost inaudible groan as the third trap is sprung.
He leans down and picks the gun up,
stepping to the left and over the size 12 converse that are bound together.
"...give them the raw oats man, if we lose some along the way oh
well. Call it natural selection or God's design, they either couldn't cut
it or it was their time. Hey, that rhymed" He chuckles.
He grabs the car keys off the hook, turns
and pulls the flare from his pocket. In one motion, he sets it off,
bathing the room in bright neon red,
"It should say something that there
is only one challenge at the end of the day we can't avoid. Death is the
only one and even though there are no rules to this game unless you are a
believer, trying to cheat by getting out of play answers is kind of pathetic if
you think about it".
He drops it and watches it quickly catch
the gasoline trail on fire. As it snakes towards the door, he opens the
door to the garage. A row of sharp objects attached to the board rigged
by a pulley system lies on the floor. There is blood on some of the
scissors and knives and the window is slightly ajar.
With some quick and measured steps he
opens the Shelby GT door and steps in. "I mean, what kind of asshole or
wimp wants to ruin the mystery. Live life on your own terms. I
don't care if you want to veg out or turn up, do it your way and stop trying to
figure it out that hard. Cause I know the meaning of life"
He turns the car on and revs it twice as
the garage door starts to rise. "Stick with me and I will tell you
if you are lucky". As he punches it, it barely clears the door.
He immediately swings it left, right over the yard, heading towards the neighbors.
As he hits the road sparks flare from the under carriage. He jams
the pedal down, ignoring the blazing two tone lights following him....