We Could Be Heroes, Big Man

07

  Upon going to sleep that night, Tommy had an odd dream, one that he wasn't sure was a dream at all.

  He stood in his parents' old bedroom. The same ripped up sheets and broken mattresses, the same old rug that had been passed down as a family heirloom for ages. Tommy swore he would be the last one to own it, it was terribly ugly.

  He sat on the bed, legs crossed and hands on the sheets. In front of him was a man. He was blood red, his entire body. From his clothes to his hair to his skin, it was all the color of spilled blood.

  "Tommy Facture."

  Tommy felt his body tingle. He hadn't heard his birth name in years. His foster parents never used it, and the foster care workers never used it. It just existed on paper.

  "You finally know of my existence now." He smiled. It was a smile of a cynical person. Nothing the smile was friendly or kind, but rather dark and intimidating. "Your parents were, great worshipers of mine."

  Tommy's brain seemed to freeze and then burn. He wanted to wake up. He wasn't enjoying this dream. Was this Hemo? Was this the god that Techno had told him about?

  "See, I never meant to send you to Phil. That man is nothing of his ancestors. Quite the opposite in fact. I was hoping you ended up like your parents in years time. I suppose I'm at fault for that not happening."

  "What do you mean?" Tommy couldn't help but ask. What was he talking about? His fault? Phil being nothing of his ancestors? What did that even mean?

  "See, Tommy Facture. I was growing weak. My followers were dimming and the lack of blood was causing my body to weak. Your parents were some of the most loyal followers I have ever had. To keep me alive—or, going at least, I can't die—they spilled their own blood for me."

  Tommy's eyes widened. He didn't like that it made sense. His mother, as his father had said, had jumped out of an airplane. However, he didn't witness his mother's death. His father killed himself right in front of his own eyes. Inside the church they had visited so many times. Tommy was in the hospital for months after that incident before he was finally put into the foster care system.

  "And, Phil, he's not a follower. I created his kind and he only teaches the exact opposite of what I want." Hemo sighed. "A disgrace to me, really. He's one of the most powerful beings among your kind and he'd rather use it to save the measly humans. They're supposed to be your food, you know. Instead you've adapted to human food." The man scowled. "My kind has changed for the worst."

  "Stop." Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. "Shut up, and stop. Stop. Stop. Stop."

  "Wh—"

  "My parents are dead because of you and you're expecting me to worship you like they did." Tommy opened his eyes, instead with tears on the brim. "I like Phil's ideals. We're not like our ancestors. And maybe it's for the better."

  The room became quiet, Hemo seemingly contemplating Tommy's words. He raised his eyebrows, shifting his weight, yet his eyes never left Tommy. "You don't want to worship me because I'm the reason your parents are dead? You realize that's the entire reason behind your existence. You'll forever be surrounded by death."

  "No!" A gust of wind surrounded Tommy, lightning touching the outer layer of his skin. He was shocked that he had just had an emotional outburst. "You're the reason I don't have a family. And Phil is finally giving that to me!"

  "Is he now!?" Hemo's voice became loud, overpowering the loud sounds of the wind. "Phil is no god, Tommy. He may be nearly immortal, but I could kill him if I wish. It would only be a waste of my limited energy however. I'll give you family, Tommy, but only if you wish to follow me."