Part 2: Back to the beginning
”Want one?” imposter Grant asked, after helping himself to a pint.
Just seeing him behind the bar my friend used to do business in caused my face to redden once more. Not only did I consider it an insult that he was parading around in Grant’s meat suit, but he had some nerve just assuming it was alright to act like he owned the place.
Though the old man had assured me that Malphas was here to help, I still felt uneasy around the guy. These were feelings I would have to push to the side, though. I had to keep my head right if we were going to get through whatever lay ahead.
“Sure,” I replied, unable to deny I could use something to take the edge off.
He handed me a fresh and blissfully chilled beer, which inspired me to light up a cigarette to accompany my brooding thoughts. I offered Malphas one, to which he screwed up his face in disgust, holding up his hands as though I’d pulled a gun on him. Yeah, I didn’t care for this guy, or whatever he was underneath.
I wasn’t exactly judging him for turning away my offer, as I knew it to be a habit I had to kick one of these days, but his aggravated dismissal only fueled the insult of him being dressed the way he was, so to speak. I knew I had to discuss our plans from here, but I was having a hard time convincing myself to do anything more than puff on my cigarette and nurse my drink in silence.
”So,” he said, breaking the comfortable, yet awkward silence, “you’re the famous Michael…”
I just nodded, choosing not to inquire as to the nature of my apparent fame.
”He don’t talk about you, really, but we all know about his human friend,” he remarked with a certain sarcasm in his voice.
Again, I felt no need to reply. Just the tone in which he spoke assured me he did not think too highly of my relationship with Grant. I suppose, this being the first time I had shared the company of any of his peers, I had never really put much thought into how his world looked at mine. In all honesty, I didn’t much care how he looked at me, as I was most certainly not regarding him with much positivity.
”So,” I said, disregarding the current topic of conversation, “what’s the plan from here? Should we wait for…”
”He ain’t coming back; not yet anyway. He’ll meet us along the way. Don’t you worry your fragile little mind about it one bit,” he said with a chuckle.
”Are we gonna have a problem?” I asked, getting to my feet.
”Woah now, bud! Ain’t no sense in getting all butthurt or nothin’. Besides, you don’t wanna start somethin’ you can’t finish.”
He stood up across from me, staring into my eyes with a cocky grin; one that was far removed from the more mischievous look I was used to from that face. Yes, being what I assumed him to be, I wouldn’t have a chance at holding my own in a fight, but that didn’t mean I was about to back down.
”Look,” he said, holding his hands up with a shrug, sitting back down on the stool he had claimed, “I didn’t mean nothin’. I talk a little shit sometimes, but it’s all in good fun. C’mon…don’t be a sour puss.”
”We have a job to do, you and I, right?” I said, still holding my ground, “you don’t have to like me, and I don’t have to give two shits about you either, but we have to be on the same page.”
”Yeah, I gotcha. My bad, okay? We cool?”
He slapped me across the shoulder, instantly causing my back to grow more tense than it already was.
”We’re cool. I just need to know…”
”Chill, man. We got this.” he said, giving me a wink, accompanied by a click of the tongue.
”Don’t do that,” slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it.
”Fine,” he said with a heavy sigh, “no jokes, no winks, no laughs…Just business, right?”
We sat in silence again, both of us occasionally sipping from our glasses. I lit another cigarette, to which my associate let out another sigh. I gave him a sideways look to see him just glaring at the rack of bottles behind the bar. It was around that time that I knew this was going to be a long ass day.
Once we reached the bottom of our glasses, I was beginning to realize the other guy would likely not be showing up anytime soon.
”He ain’t comin’ back through that door,” false Grant said, nodding back to where we had entered.
”What the hell was that back there?”
”Couldn’t say. If I had to guess, I’m thinking the force behind that building found us.”
”So why’d we run!?” I belted, getting to my feet again, “if we’re trying to track that damn place, why didn’t we just go with it!?”
Malphas turned on his stool to face me, wearing an expression that I would imagine a parent would give to a child who was inquiring as to the nature of quantum physics or some other thing way above their understanding.
”You don’t actually believe that was a welcome party, do you?”
He gave another exhausted sigh, still glaring at me like I was a particularly special sort of fool.
”It tried to take me and Grant back with it before. Maybe it…”
”It wants us dead, dumbass! It got what it wanted, and I’m pretty sure it knows what we’re planning. You think it’s just gonna let us do that?”
He didn’t shout or scream his words; only stated them as if they should need no further explanation. I can’t say his words didn’t get my blood boiling again, but I couldn’t deny that he likely had a point. Sure, I could’ve snapped back at him and started another pointless debate, but I knew there was no sense in it. Not to mention, being fully aware of some of Grant’s gifts, I had to believe the man wearing his face had at least a few of his talents. The last thing I needed was to get my ass handed to me before we even get started.
”So, what do we do?” I asked, practically falling back to the bar stool.
”What he told us to do: get you back to your old home.”
”I still don’t get what that’s gonna solve. I honestly don’t even know if it’s still there, or if anyone else lives there. It’s not like…”
”It’s still there, bud. It’s still vacant too. Ain’t nobody set up shop there since you murdered dear old daddy.”
He gave me a strange smile as he spoke; something resembling pride in my actions so long ago. Of all the things he had said since I met him, this was the one that granted me a glimpse behind the fabricated face he wore.
Even at my lowest point, I was never proud of what I did to my father. Yes, he was only the first of so many monsters my life would introduce me to, but I was still ashamed of what I was driven to. I detested the man, but I never wished that on him. Well, not entirely anyway. Not by my hands.
When my companion for the time being suggested we get moving, I can’t say I wasn’t apprehensive, both of the company I shared as well as the destination.
”Don’t s’pose you know how to work that, huh?” he said, pointing to the payphone next to the exit to many places.
I just shook my head, feeling little reason to elaborate more than that. He walked up to it and snatched up the phone book that dangled from a chain to flip through its pages. After a few moments, he just shook his head, exhaled loudly, and dropped the book to swing back and forth.
Given the fact that, while the key would lead me here, I was well aware I could not use it to return to my home; not without the proper combination anyway. Fortunately, I had a plan in place for such times. With the parking space outside being perpetually vacant, I kept a second truck housed in that location. Brandon had accompanied me here the last time I visited, as I wanted to introduce him to the mysterious little tavern after pulling back the curtain, so to speak.
We drove separately on that occasion, leaving one vehicle out front, and using the other to get back home. This being the first time I had been back since then, I made sure to bring the keys before sliding the key into my bedroom door. Of course, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about having this imposter Grant riding shotgun for the next several hours, but my choices in the matter seemed quite limited.
He appeared as excited by the prospect of a road trip as I did, letting out yet another sigh; a habit that caused me to clench my jaw harder with every repetition. Once he gave a defeated shrug, we headed out, loaded up, and got on the road. Sure, I didn’t have to light up another smoke as soon as we got on the interstate, but if he was going to continue with his habits that annoyed me, it seemed only fair I do the same.
Yes, it was a completely childish gesture, and I most certainly could have attempted to be a little more accommodating, but I didn’t. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was well aware that we were both carrying on like bratty kids, but it didn’t stop me. We were both on the same page, I think. We knew this had to be done, but neither of us cared for the company we were forced to keep.
I could only hope I would not end up in a situation in which I would have to rely on him, and I honestly couldn’t say whether or not I would lend a hand if he needed my help for anything. The only thing that kept me from leaving him behind; making some excuse to leave the bar and haul ass away without him, was the hope that he would indeed return Grant his vessel should we be able to find him. That in itself was something I was incredibly skeptical of, but I had to try.
Other than a few aggravated mutters and many more heavy sighs, the six-hour drive to reach the town I grew up in was less than noteworthy. Being some time in the wee hours of the morning by the time we arrived in the small city that appeared to have not changed in the slightest all these years, I suggested getting some hotel rooms for the night.
Malphas grimaced, naturally, claiming we shouldn’t delay. Regardless of his protests, he was yawning just as much as I was. Clearly, he was not quite used to the upkeep a human body requires. Either way, I was physically and mentally beat, being not remotely in a fit state to deal with whatever we were looking for, back at the old homestead. My traveling companion reluctantly agreed to my request, and I covered the cost of two rooms for the night in a roadside motel, just off the interstate.
Though we still didn’t converse much after loading back up into the truck the following morning, I could tell that my companion was a little more at ease after a night’s rest. I didn’t make any inquiry as to how he slept or anything, as I neither felt the urge to talk to the man, nor did I expect him to answer with anything short of sarcasm, but the drive to my old home didn’t take long at least.
The entire street I used to live on was deserted and dilapidated; something that caught me by surprise, truth be told. On one hand, I was glad to not have to face any of my neighbors from back in the day, who likely would still see me as a cold-blooded murderer and nothing more. On the other, it made my return even more painful than I had anticipated.
Even what remained of the cracked tarmac of that main road I lost my brother to, was free of any traffic. It was as though this entire section of the city had been lost to the passage of far more years than had truly passed since I was left unconscious on the grass, next to my old man’s corpse.
Seeing the happy faces of the neighborhood kids at least gave me some semblance of hope when I was a child. With the place so run down and forgotten, there was nothing left but the awful memories that defined my youth. The agonizing nostalgia hit me like a baseball bat to the gut as I walked across the lawn I lay my father to rest on.
As I strolled up to the front door, I reached for the knob with trembling fingers. Even after all these years, the flood of memories caused my head to spin. I wasn’t surprised to find the entrance to my childhood home unlocked, given the condition of the old place, but I was caught off guard to see everything still in place as it was the last time I was here.
My father’s worn and stained recliner still sat at the same angle he had left it, the large, wooden framed television as well. Every piece of furniture belonging to my parents filled the building I could never truly consider a home; only the first prison I found myself locked away within.
My legs reluctantly carried me up the stairs while my mind reeled from the ghosts drifting across its surface. The wide crack my lower back had left in the corner of the wall parallel to my old bedroom, was still in place. My old man never felt inspired to repair it, given the events of that night. Sometimes I think he left it there as a reminder for me. Something to catch my eye every time I left my room, to assure me that he was in charge.
After running my fingers across the splits in the wall, trickling ancient sheetrock dust to the faded carpet, I walked on to the room I once shared with my brother. The door still lay on the floor from where my father had knocked it from its hinges, and I could almost swear I heard the tears of little Tommy while the bastard who assisted in my conception screamed from my subconscious.
My knees gave out before I had a chance to see it coming. Malphas did not speak as I knelt on the ratty old carpet, sobbing as I had so many times in this very room. It was as though every single beating and hateful word my father sneered throughout my childhood cascaded against the inner walls of my brain at once; something that left me feeling as defenseless as the neglected boy I used to be.
”You’re still the same pathetic little pissant you were back then,” a familiar voice spoke from behind me, sending a sharp pain up the length of my stiffening spine.
I turned slowly as my body began to twitch and spasm, but when my eyes met the hazy and shadowed figure of my father standing in the open doorway to my childhood bedroom, I let out a shriek of pure horror. It was as though his entire being was made of a wispy smoke, contorting his features in a similar manner to the version of him I faced in that very building we sought to find.
”You gotta lotta nerve comin’ back here, you fuckin’ demon,” he sneered as he floated towards me, extending his foggy right arm in an attempt to strike me.
As the hazy hand swiped at my face, I raised my own trembling arm in an attempt to block his attack. Even after the shadowy limb drifted through and around me, causing an alarmingly frigid chill to caress my already shivering flesh, I still braced myself for a second swing.
I lifted myself from the floor, propping upon the legs that felt like quivering gelatin, as he swatted at me over and over, howling an anguished wail with every attempt to make contact. As the realization that he had no ability to cause me harm set in, I managed to regulate my trembling body, facing him down with just as much contempt as he showed me.
”Easy, bud,” Malphas said, inspiring the shadow of my father to spin and face him, “I didn’t bring you back here for a dick measuring contest.”
The two just stared at one another while my fragmenting mind fought to wrap around what was happening. Though, at first, I had assumed the man who wore Grant’s face to be a friend to the old man on the pier, I had neglected the words he offered me at first; that this was an associate of Grant, not of himself. Finally understanding that the man who had accompanied me to my old home was likely some sort of demon, it didn’t take much to piece it together from there.
Surely, my father was damned for his actions in life; something I never even thought to ask about. With this man, for lack of a better term, having likely originated in the world my friend once presided over, it makes sense that he would have access to the tormented souls of the underworld. What I could not figure out was why.
What relevance did my father have to our quest? Was it necessary to come back to this awful house to make contact with him? What was this bastard wearing my friend’s body even playing at, and why did the old man send us here in the first place?
”Why did you bring me back here!?” my father sneered, to which Malphas returned a smirk eerily similar to the one I was more familiar with.
”Well, for one: it had to be here. You’re dead, and can only return to this plane in the place you kicked it. Two: you have more of a connection to your missing parts up here. Not so much down below.”
”What the hell is this shit, Malphas!?” I belted, feeling both shaken and aggravated by this ordeal.
”You’ve been there,” false Grant said, staring deadpan at the shadowed form of my old man, “haven’t you?”
”Been where?” my father replied, sounding a little shaky himself.
Malphas allowed an unsettling grin to stretch across his mouth; an expression that looked so far out of place on the familiar face, that it caused my stomach to churn. My brain was working overtime in an attempt to wrap around what he was implying, but I would have to admit that denial was most definitely a factor in my mental struggle at the time.
”You used to wonder why so many people in this little town thought so highly of the man you knew to be a monster, yes?” Malphus said, cutting his eyes from the ghost of my father to me.
I just nodded, uncertain of any words to offer at the time.
”At one time, Michael, not long before you came into the picture, your folks were genuinely good people. Pillars of the community, and all that. The building corrupted that; tore away parts of them that could never be replaced.”
I felt my jaw unhinge and my eyes widen. Could this be true? Did that damned place curse my life long before I ever stepped foot in it?
”You were destined for a very different path, bud; something that was set in motion long before you opened your eyes for the very first time on this plane.”
”You don’t know what you’re talking about!” the shadowed form of my old man said, “I ain’t never been…”
”But you have, buddy boy, and now you’re gonna help us track it down,” fake Grant stated in a slightly mischievous voice. Malphas reached into his pocket, pulling a small, spherical object from within. It looked like a discolored, silver ball at first, but when he pulled it apart in the center, it flipped open to reveal some sort of compass. As the needle slowly drifted from the default, north position, it began to spin. Within seconds, it was rotating so quickly that it was impossible to track, turning to a blur before my eyes.
When the humming sound began to accompany the rapid spinning, the split sphere lifted from his hand as a vibrant glow emitted from somewhere within. The noise grew so loud that I could almost feel the ground quaking beneath my feet, inspiring me to scream out.
My shouting blended with the howling wail the ghost of my father made, as the light spiraled out from the compass, wrapping shimmering tendrils around him. As he was engulfed by the light, it shot back towards the compass with its swiftly spinning needle coming to a halt the moment the light dissipated.
The silvery orb fell back to the hand borrowed from my closest friend, as the man wearing his skin glanced up at me with a light and happy expression, like a kid having just successfully won a stuffed animal from the claw machine at a local grocery store.
”Ready to get back on the road?” he asked, as though we had made nothing more than a pit stop at a gas station.
I had more questions than my mind knew how to filter through. I could only hope that I would find my ability to speak again soon, but for the time being, I just gave my traveling companion a nod.
I took one last glance back at my childhood home, feeling my stomach lurch from the possibilities of what could have been. I would perhaps have more time to dwell on this another time, but not yet. I couldn’t risk distractions with what lay ahead of us, but the day’s revelations had left me both stunned and quite shaken.
When we arrived back at my truck, while Malphas climbed into the passenger seat, I was momentarily distracted. I glanced all around me to see nothing more than vacant houses and the empty sidewalk, with the wind lightly tousling varying sizes of liter here and there. Whatever it was, regardless of the fact I saw no signs of life besides the man whose company I shared, I could feel eyes upon me.
My mind was all over the place, I can’t deny that. Revisiting the old homestead reawakened painful memories I had almost convinced myself I was over, but I knew what I felt. I traced my eyes across the windows of the neighboring houses but still could see nothing out there.
”What’re you waitin’ for?” my impatient passenger called out, “you forget somethin’?”
”Sorry,” I said, finally taking my place at the wheel, feeling no inspiration to mention my paranoid thoughts.
As we pulled back onto the interstate, leaving my old stomping ground in the dust, Malphas and I allowed the silence to fill the cabin of the truck once more. He continuously took glances down to the compass he clutched onto, to be sure we were following the correct path to the missing parts of my father’s soul, but his light-hearted expression didn’t falter.
We were maybe thirty minutes into the drive when my ability to speak returned. The first question that slipped from my lips was the one that left me temporarily mute in the first place.
”Did my parents really enter that place?” I asked in little more than a whisper.
”Oh yeah. Fucked them up good, too,” he replied with a shrug.
”How much do you know, Malphas?”
”You sure you wanna hear this?”
In many ways, I didn’t. My life was defined by the hatred I had for my folks, but I needed to know. Would it change how I felt about them or my childhood? Likely not, but I can’t deny that the story he told me did make me sad; both at what became of my parents as well as what Tommy and I were forced to endure all those years.
Sometimes, it’s the things that could have been that can inspire far more torment than the way they ended up.