The Phantoms of Marvis Pass

Two - Into the Beyond

        Al watches, perplexed, as Daryl sprints wildly out of the bluish forest, waving his arms like flags caught in a wind tunnel.

"The Sorrow, the Sorrow!" Daryl wails as he bounds closer. He lets out a shrill scream as his feet zip out from under him, and he stumbles into the mud that covers the town's ground. Daryl hastily rights himself and gets back up, but he is instantly met with another attack from the muck.

"Day!" Al ambles towards him and grabs his arms, pulling his lover back up. "Sorrow doesn't come until Sundays."

"But it is Sunday!"

"No, honey, it is Saturday."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Daryl's harsh breathing slows as he looks Al up and down and then at his soiled clothing. "I must've just felt a cold breeze."

Al runs his fingers over Daryl's coiled hair and then rubs his cheek with a gentle thumb. "Just a breeze."

Daryl hugs his partner, feeling the soppy dirt seep into Al's yellowed top. "Thank God. I hate it when she comes."

"Me too." Al look around. "Where are the buckets?"

"I left them in the forest because I got scared."

"Okay." Al rubs Daryl's slender back and pushes him back towards the trees slumbering and lazing about in the distance. "Let's go get them."

. . .

The chilly creek spread between Al's fingers as he dipped the tin bucket into the water, and a couple of fish wriggle by, escaping the water flooding into the bucket. Al gets to his feet and turns around. Daryl is staring at his reflection in the creek, his bucket filled to the brim. His expression is drawn and sunken, and Al ambles over to his distraught lover.

"What's up?" Al mutters.

Daryl looks up at him with glossy eyes, his pupils enlarged and sorrowful. "Will we ever get out of here?"

Al kneels down beside him. "I...I'm not sure."

"I just want to move on. I know we are...dead. And we remember how we died."

As Daryl stares upon his beautiful Al, his rampant imagination strikes, overlaying a vicious memory onto his vision. Al's full frame reduces in size, his back now hunched with exhaustion, while his skin desaturates to a squeamish blue hue. It's a tragic sight to see your beloved fall from grace, and Al had to witness Daryl practically shrivel up to grotesque nothingness. The whole town was slaughtered overnight from an invisible plague, and without immediate medical assistance, the deaths were violent and quick.

The lovers laid in bed together, Al spooning Daryl, as they watched the world lose its incredible colors. The western night veiled their tragic cuddling, and Daryl rolled over to the side of the bed to puke out whatever was left within his failing body. The regurgitation was excrutiating, and he had just enough energy to expell the waste from his system before flopping back down beside Al. They were shirtless, allowing Daryl to feel Al's labored breathing as they awaited their passing. Daryl closed his eyes, but he stirred immediately when his spine wasn't met with Al's heart's thump...thump...thump...

"Al?" Daryl whispered. "Al, baby?" Hot tears leapt from Daryl's puffy eyes as his partner's life finally concluded behind him. A five month relationship was shredded by the cruel habits of nature, and Daryl couldn't muster up the strength to even produce a sorrowful moan. It was just silent heartbreak until his own life faded into the beyond.

The room wavered away into spooky darkness, leaving Daryl suspended in a universe devoid of surfaces and logic, before he was thrown violently through a formless vortex. He could feel the gravitational force of the structure, but it did not have a visual shape. Daryl was utterly confused when he awoke back in bed with Al beside him, and gleeful sunlight pierced through the window beside their bed. Was it just a bitterly realistic nightmare?

Daryl slipped out of the bed, but he knew something had altered. The air was thicker. Everything seemed flat; depth was gone. Daryl jumped when Al erupted out from underneath the covers with a brutal yell. He calmed himself and gazed around before his sight settled on Daryl.

"Day?" Al muttered. "Did we get better?"

Daryl climbed back in beside his love and ran his fingers through Al's thick chest hair, shocked to now feel the soft vibrations of his tense heart. "I...I don't know. I feel weird."

"I do, too. I remember dying, Day."

"The void."

"I saw that, too. Day, is this Heaven? If it is, I surprised I'm here. I haven't prayed since I was a boy."

"Me neither."

"Maybe we can go find Jesus and ask him why we're here."

Al clambered over Daryl and picked up his shirt off the floor. He pulled it over his matted hair and left the house, leaving Daryl to ponder alone. The sunlight above was filtered by a mass of purple tinted clouds, and Al wasn't used to the fascinating chill around him. The summer brought dangerously high temperatures, and this sudden dive in degrees was startling to his body. Groves of goosebumps popped up on his arms, making his hairs stand on end, as he walked through the silence of the mining town.

"Hello?" Al cried out, but not a single soul hooted back. "Hello? Are we dead?"

"D...E...A...D..."

Al whipped around as an enchanting, feminine voice spelled out his final word with utmost dignity and passion. Her voice echoed through the frameworks of the buildings and resonated in Al's flesh.

"Hello?"

"H...E...L...L...O..."

"Who's there? Maribel, is that you?" Al was somewhat close to Maribel, the wife of one of the miners, and this voice was relatively similar to her's.

"Y...O...U..."

Al shuffled backwards before sprinting maniacally back to the house. He bolted through the front door and slammed it behind him, and Daryl propped himself up in the bed. Al snatched Daryl's shirt and vest off a nearby dresser and started to pull the clothing over Daryl's head.

"Al? What's going on?"

"Did you hear the voice?"

"Yeah. Who is that?"

"I don't know. Something is wrong. We need to get out of here."

Daryl swatted Al's generous hands away and finished dressing himself. "Where is everyone?"

"Shhh..." Al cooed as he gazed sheepishly out the window, and he felt an inhale get caught in his throat as he spotted the spelling woman. The Sorrow was here.