Don't Call Me Dead

18. The End

Family is the most important thing ever.

Jack is not family.

Yet he came to save me.

I didn't ask him to save me.

Yes, I did.

Things have changed. I don't need saving.

Do I?

It's not Marvin's fault he is who he is.

Neither it was Gia's.

I taught him right from wrong. He won't kill again.

Will he?

Marvin stops a couple of steps away from Jack, still gripping his carving knife behind his back. Jack lowers his large backpack to the ground and the two of them continue their conversation. Brownie smells Marvin's feet, and wags his tail. So much for dogs sensing danger.

Jack's eyes slip off Marvin's face and travel distractedly over the clearing and the hill.

Until he sees me.

His eyes open wide, his jaw drops, and he seems to forget all about Marvin.

"Ghost?" he calls out.

Marvin looks back, following his gaze, and for a second the two of them just stare at me. One of them is family, the other is... well, just a kid. Someone's kid. Like Harry is mine.

Marvin's hand with the knife comes into motion, and I make my choice.

"Jack," I shout, "he has a knife! Run!"

What follows is a blur of motion as the two men and a dog all move at once. Growling, barking, and cursing merge together, and by the time the gunshot comes, I'm on the floor, my back to the wall, my eyes squeezed shut. Through my palms pressed against my ears comes the sound of dog's whining, and then another gunshot, and then it's all quiet.

I don't want to see anything. I don't want to hear anything. I don't want to know anything.

Yet I do hear a thin, whining noise. Harry. The gunshot must have woken him. I open my eyes and lower my hands. Apart from the baby's crying, there's not a sound.

Shakily, I get up to my feet, and stand there, looking at the crib.

"A baby?"

I turn my head, and there's Jack, standing in the doorway. He looks at me, then at the crib, then at me again. Brownie makes his way confidently past him, smells my feet, wags his tail disinterestedly, and moves to smell the crib.

"A ghost's baby." Jack walks over to me, reaches out, and pokes me lightly on the shoulder. "Not a ghost, after all?"

"Where's Marvin?" I hear myself say.

"The dude outside?" For a moment, his face distorts as if he's about to cry. Then he pulls himself together, even though his eyes are still round with shock. "He's dead. I think I've killed him. He has no pulse." He looks away. "He started it. He went for me with the knife. He tried to cut Brownie, too." His eyes stop on the crosses in the corner. "Oh shit, what is that? What is this place?"

"Long story."

My eyes travel over the familiar interior. It was home. It's nothing now. It all made sense when Marvin was around, when I could see this place and this life through the prism of his twisted understanding. Now, there's nothing here but madness and tragedy.

"We must leave now."

"Okay," he says slowly. "Don't you need to pack or something?"

"No." I scoop Harry up from the crib and wrap his blanket around him. He stops crying and stares at Jack. "Will you find the way back through the swamps?"

"Well, I came here, didn't I?" He spreads his hands, looking rather offended. "I know how to navigate the swamps."

"Then lead the way." I walk out without waiting for him and proceed across the clearing, pushed by the urgent desire to get away. As much as I try to avoid it, I do notice the shape in the grass. Marvin. I should say good bye, yet I'm not sure I can handle it. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel anymore.

I hope he didn't have time to understand that I betrayed him.

"Not so fast." Jack catches up and walks by my side, throwing curious glances at me. "No need to hurry like that. I mean, it's going to be okay now. He won't hurt you anymore. Why are you crying? "

I sniffle and only then realize there are tears streaming down my face. I'm not sure whether I'm crying about all the things I went through, or all the things that could have been but won't happen.

As we reach the trees, I let Jack go ahead. I turn back to have one last glimpse of the clearing. The light is fading, and the colors looks dull. The door and the window in the hill stand ajar, as if waiting for me to return. Or for Marvin.

I move my gaze to the place where his body's laying in the grass, and, with a start, I see him. He's standing upright, looking at me. Then, his figure fades, until nothing remains on the empty clearing but the growing shadows of the dusk.

The End