I stumble back as George collapses in tears. The wailing woman is gone, leaving the two of us alone in the dark street.
"Damn it!" George pounds the street with his fist, "Damn those bastards! Curse them all to hell!"
Suddenly he stumbles to his feet, his hands clutching me wildly.
"Did Jimmy make it? Oh god, please, tell me he made it home."
I gently disentangle myself from him. "I don't know, George," I say softly, "I've never met Jimmy. But you guys did win that war. The Germans lost."
George straightens as disbelief and wonder wash over him.
"So it wasn't all pointless then?" he asks softly.
I shake my head.
"So I didn't die for nothing?"
I shake my head again.
While the dead may not have all their bodily functions, tears are one thing that they seem to be able to produce.
As they slip down George's cheeks, his eyes start to glow a welcoming blue. The air around us starts to crackle and shimmer. The wound on his back ripples as the skin, bone, and muscle knit back together. His gaunt cheeks fill in and a warm, pink color returns to his face.
My chest heaves as the weight of his transformation begins to crush me. Sparks rush through my veins, both revitalizing and sapping my strength. I clench my teeth as George breaths deeply and exhales.
"Thank you," he whispers, "And if you ever run into James Rockland, tell him I'm waiting on him, and I'll be watching over him until he gets to the other side."
The air around us grows dark as all the light and energy is drawn to George. His eyes latch onto something I can't see. I struggle to stay on my feet as energy shoots from George into me. It clings to my suit and face as George's smiles peacefully. A moment of utter silence is followed by the twisting, winding vision of George Franklin's entire, tragically short life flashing before my eyes.
He grows brighter than the sun for a moment, then he's gone. I fall forward onto my hands and knees as the bitter taste of his death heaves up my throat. I vomit the black smoke onto the ground, wipe my hand across my mouth, and rise to my feet.
"Well, that was quite a show."
My head whips around and I find myself face to face with the toothy, sadistic grin of my brother.
YOU ARE READING
The City of Broken Hearts
ParanormalBeing a Seeker in the land of the living isn't easy. Being a Seeker in the land of the dead is nearly impossible. When Bartholomew Foxtrot finds himself suddenly un-dead, he discovers that his family is in danger, and he must find a way back to the...
