The Betrothed

Part 34

Darrick and Abby were laid out on their bed. Richard stood beside them, hands upon their heads, chanting furiously, trying to get through the ritual as quickly as he could. It was obvious to all that time was quickly running out; the runaways’ breathing was rapid, their skins sallow. Every so often one would stir and mutter something underneath his or her breath, sometimes in unison, but mostly they lay perfectly still, only the shallow rise and fall of their chests indicating that they still lived.

John, Cynthia, Anthony, Jessica, and Meredith stood at the foot of the bed, watching anxiously, none knowing what terrified them more – the deaths of their children or friends, or what would inevitably come after. Even now, chaos was building in the streets outside. Screams were heard in the formerly-sedate streets of this dignified community as people ran for some semblance of shelter from the threatening firestorm. Elsewhere in the city, and around the world, riots were breaking out as panicked citizens abandoned hope at the end of the world, maybe even driven to their own madness by Darrick’s influence. Angela had locked and bolted the front door, and now she and Jimmy stood guard, making sure there would be no interference as the world fell to pieces around them.

The frantic chanting seemed to go on forever; to everyone in the room, it felt as though no Completion ceremony had ever lasted a tenth as long as this one, and no one knew if that were merely their own fear altering their sense of time, or if Darrick and Abby’s condition was in truth making it more difficult for Richard to achieve the final joining of their minds and hearts. Certainly, the procedure was difficult for them; their murmurs were becoming louder, transforming into cries of pain and fear. Soon, their bodies were no longer motionless, but twitching and twisting in agony.

“Stop! Stop! You’re hurting them!” Jessica cried, unable to watch any more. Richard only shook his head in rebuttal and kept on. She tried to rush forward to yank his hands away, but Anthony’s hold stopped her.

“Trust him, my love,” he told her softly, holding her in a comforting embrace as he turned her head away from the sight. “He’s doing what he can. There’s no other choice.” She buried his head in his shoulder.

Meredith covered her own face with her hands, unable to bear the sight any longer; Cynthia reached out with her free arm, the one not holding firmly onto John’s hand, and pulled her close, letting her cry silently into her chest. She herself could not tear her gaze away, painful as it was.

Suddenly, Darrick and Abby both stiffened in unison and fell utterly limp. Immediately, the noises outside grew louder, as though a cry of utter terror had been ripped from all the peoples of the world. Richard staggered back, his mouth open, the only sound coming from it a choking gasp. His gaze slowly turned from his young charges to the onlookers, his expression terrible. They all immediately knew what had happened, but they waited, frozen in silence, for Richard to confirm their horrible guess.

“They’re . . . they’re dead,” he said, barely able to get the words out around his labored breathing, his voice raspy and harsh. “They were . . . too far . . . the stress was too much. Oh, gods, they’re gone.” He nearly collapsed, saving himself only at the last second by grabbing hold of the bedside table. The complete silence in the room felt a physical thing, battling against the chaos outside, none of them sure what to think, say, do. From the outer room, they could hear the television news. Missiles launched from North Korea. United States announcing a retaliation. That, too, was too much to handle. Each couple held on to each other even tighter, and Meredith’s shaking doubled in strength. No one wanted to ask ‘What now?’. No one believed there was any point.

A wail burst from Jessica, the sound of ultimate loss. It galvanized the room, and tears began to flow from every eye. Every eye save Richard’s. With a lurch, he threw himself back to the bedside and placed his hands once more and Darrick and Abby’s heads.

“No!” he cried. “I will not be the cause of this. I will not let you go yet.” He turned to the others, who were staring at him as though he had lost his mind. “Their spirits cannot have traveled far yet; it’s a long journey to the afterworld. I’m going to call them back!”

“Are you insane?” Anthony asked incredulously. “You can’t . . . you can’t do that! You can’t bring people back from the dead!”

“Yes, I can,” Richard replied. “Theoretically. I don’t know that it’s ever been done, but I have to try. True language rules the world of the living. Let’s see if it can reach the world of the dead.”

Richard immediately closed his eyes and began to chant once more. Or, rather, his mouth moved, but no sound came out. His words were directed elsewhere, to ears existing on a different plane than the ordinary mortal world. To all in the room, it seemed as though the Sun had disappeared from the windows, as though all light had faded to grey. Sounds were deadened, and all around them was the silence of the tomb, a silence filled with the weight of earth and clay, tinged with the cold of the underground and with the smell of decay. Their skins crawled, and all felt unwelcome, their intruding presence resented by the entities that clustered around their warm bodies. All were still and silent, struggling to muffle even the sounds of their own breaths, lest they draw unsavory and dangerous attention. Through all this, seemingly oblivious to what he was drawing down upon them, Richard continued to chant. The dark silence grew greater and greater; their knees became weak as strength left them, and all five onlookers feared they would soon also be drawn into this world, never to return to light and warmth.

Richard jerked and thrashed, his hands losing contact with Darrick and Abby’s bodies. His head fell back, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling; immediately, all felt released from the threat of the grave, only to feel an even greater, grander presence filling the room with a vitality so great none felt they could stand it long.

“The gods speak!” Richard declaimed as his body stiffened ever straighter, so that he seemed to be trying to lift himself up off the floor. “Trying to recall the dead is an abomination! A grave abuse of the words they have given us!” With those words, hope fell, and everyone went to their knees in despair and awe. But the gods were not finished. “Oh, they will be merciful!” Richard said, his tears flowing freely down his face. “They know our situation, and will return Darrick and Abigail to us. But there is a . . . a price. For every life they return, a life of equal value must be given up. The balance must be maintained.” Richard’s expression collapsed into grief. “And my hubris must be punished. Two lives for two lives, given freely. Who will it be?” Richard fell to his hands and knees, released from the hold of the gods; his arms nearly gave out, but he managed to push himself up, though his stance remained hunched over, lacking the energy to reach its full height. The others stood as well, their legs shaky.

“So that’s it,” he said, his voice whispery and weak. “Two of us have to give up our lives.” Immediately, the room erupted in voices, each inhabitant offering their own life for the salvation of their loved ones and the entire world. Richard held up his hand. “That’s not all. The gods said lives of ‘equal value’. That means that the life given up has to be equal in magnitude to the one they would have had. John, Cynthia, Anthony, Jessica – I’m afraid that disqualifies all of you. And me, for that matter. We’re twice the age of these children, if not more. Our lives are too far gone. That leaves . . .” Everyone turned to Meredith, who stood straight, but trembling. She bit down on her quivering lower lip, then nodded.

“I understand,” she said, her voice quavering but sure. “I’m the only one the gods will accept.” She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “I will give my life up gladly to save Abby’s.” The smile she attempted was an uncertain thing, but no one doubted the sincerity of her words.

“Thank you,” Jessica said. “Thank you from all of us. You don’t know what this means.” Meredith turned to her and shook her head.

“I know exactly what it means,” she said. “I heard once that no love can be greater than one that gives up her life for her friend. Well, this is my chance, and I won’t let her down.” To Richard, she only said, “What do I have to do?”

“Wait,” John broke in. “Your gods wanted two lives. But we don’t have another young person. What about Darrick? We can’t leave him as he is.” Outside the window, the world was growing louder with the sounds of utter panic in the streets. And somewhere above them, they all knew, the missiles would be flying. “Without Darrick, we’re all lost.”

They all looked at each other, hoping to see the answer in another’s face. Patrick would have been their only other option, but he was gone, disappeared. And no one knew if he could have been persuaded to give up his own life, even for the sake of the world. Despair began to overtake them. To come so close to righting all the wrongs of the past six months – maybe the past twenty-one years – only to fail now. It was more than could be borne.

“The gods require an equal sacrifice,” Cynthia broke in, putting together her thoughts even as she spoke them. “What if we don’t have to use a single life? What if we can use two?” She looked over at John, who nodded at her to go on, following her logic. “John and I both together would probably equal out to the rest of Darrick’s life. Will you take the two of us?”

Richard raised up his eyes once again, and for a moment everything was silent. Then he stiffened once more, and his voice deepened. They all knew that what they heard now was not Richard, but the words of a god.

“IT IS SUFFICIENT,” the voice said from Richard’s mouth. “THE SACRIFICES WILL JOIN THEIR HANDS.” Wordlessly, Cynthia held out her hand to Meredith; she reached out to take it, but paused and turned to Anthony and Jessica.

“Tell Brendon, tell my parents, I love them,” she said, working hard to control her tremors. “Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I died to save a friend.”

“We will,” Anthony assured her; Jessica just nodded.

Meredith took Cynthia’s hand and pulled her close, holding her trembling body tight. With her other hand she held firmly on to her husband.

“Take care of Darrick,” she told Anthony and Jessica. “He’s your son now. Do better than I did.”

“I don’t think we could ever do more than you’re doing now,” Jessica replied. Any further comment was cut short.

“DO YOU GIVE YOUR LIVES FREELY SO THAT THESE MIGHT BE RESTORED?”

“I do,” the three answered in unison.

“THAN IT IS DONE.”

The bodies of John, Cynthia, and Meredith collapsed limply to the floor; Darrick and Abby each gasped, then settled into deep, even breathing. Richard sagged. Anthony and Jessica hurried to the bed, where Darrick and Abby were now sleeping calmly and quietly.

On the television, a news flash. North Korea had self-destructed its own missiles while still in the air. Their bluff had failed. They were ready to talk.

And the world went on another day.