SHEOL

21

Author's Note: I apologize for not keeping up on this story. I've been rather busy as of late, but don't worry. I will not abandon it. Also, Slab City and the Jamaican Gully of New Kingston (as well as the Gully Queens) are actual places and people.

The train was rather quiet. Kingston, The Window Killer, and I had the luxury of having a cabin to ourselves. As we ventured through the darkness, I didn't feel the slightest bit tired. In fact, I felt more wide awake than I had in a very long time. To my luck, both Kingston and The Window Killer were awake too (The Window Killer didn't require sleep, I later found out). As soon as The Window Killer lit another candle, we all began to discuss Kingston's life.

"How long have you been in foster care?" I asked him as we both stared thoughtfully out the window. The Window Killer sat near the aisle to my left, and Kingston sat across from us.

"Since I was ten." He said in an abstract tone. "My dad was killed when I was seven, so I lived with my mother until she became handicapped. After that ordeal, I was only eight years old. I lived in the gully for two years until I hopped on a boat to the U.S. I was then forced to become a child of the system. They took me up to Queens, and that's where I stayed."

"What's 'the gully'?" The Window Killer asked.

"Ah, the gully," He reminisced. "In Jamaica, that's where the gay community lives. We lived in a storm drain---"

"A drain??" The Window Killer and I both questioned simultaneously.

"Yeah. Jamaica is a very homophobic country, so the only place that we were really accepted was underground, away from the undiscerning public eye."

"Does that mean that you're a homosexual?" The Window Killer asked.

I slapped him. "Don't inquire such things, especially when you just met someone! How on earth did you pick up gorgeous virgins in London with those manners?!"

"No one ever said they were all gorgeous. Sometimes, people are virgins for other  reasons." He glared at me.

Kingston laughed. "It's really okay. To answer your question, I'm not sure. Living in the Gully taught me a lot about the homosexual lifestyle, but I don't know if I can really place myself wholly into that specific category. I like whoever I like, you know? Despite everything, the queens accepted me with open arms, and really helped me understand that no matter what anyone thinks of you, as long as you're genuinely happy with yourself, you can do anything."

I smiled at him. "I'm glad that you've come to accept yourself, but what do you think of your new supernatural abilities?"

"Well," Kingston thought for a moment. "I'm not really sure what I think about them. Sometimes, I wish that I couldn't see spirits and leeches. They can get really sinister."

"What does a leech look like?" I asked them both generally. It hadn't occurred to me until that moment that I was the only one of the group who had never actually seen a leech. I had felt their presence when Mr. Moonshine had been surrounded in the camper before he transferred the Spirit of the Fight into me, but at that point, I wasn't a Field. I was still just a human monad who couldn't even comprehend what was going on.

The Window Killer quivered. "They're most nasty, October. And, I hate to say this, but unless my senses deceive me, there is a leech aboard this train."

"What!?" I exclaimed. "But, I didn't see one when we boarded! How can you be so sure?"

"My senses are far more accustomed to such aura. Neither of you have had enough experience to sense such a foul beast, especially when it conceals it's presence."

"They're able to do that?" Kingston asked.

"If they're not too far gone, yes. Some lose themselves too rapidly to their anger and lust for revenge once they meet their demise. Others are more intelligent, and use such emotions to their advantage." The Window Killer said as he stood up. He opened the small door that stored the luggage overhead and grabbed his suitcase and sat back down. He then opened it, silently, and removed a large, black knife. It looked sharp and worn, as though it had been in use numerous times in the past. It did not look like it would be able to fit in his suitcase.

"Where were you keeping that??" I asked in a startled tone. When he previously opened the suitcase, all that lay inside were four grey candles.

He grinned. "A secret pocket. I didn't accidentally want to cut the candles."

"Are you going to kill the leech with that?" Kingston asked. He wore a smirk on his face, as if it pleasured him to be a part of an activity that involved slaughtering the dammed.

"Perhaps." The Window Killer responded. " That is, if it poses a threat to us. I'd rather not kill if I don't have to in this particular situation."

"But in any other, you'd be fine." I remarked.

"Any other in nineteenth century London." He said.

We sat in silence for a while. The Window Killer removed a faded handkerchief from the depths of his pocket and began polishing the eerie blade as Kingston and I stared cautiously into the night. This quiet lasted, until roughly 3 a.m.