The Second Confluence

Angus woke with a start. The morning light was arching into the cabin almost cheerfully, the reddish tinge from the smoke to the south only added to the seeming warmth. The cabin was empty, John Henry and Sal were on the road, Hammers was off doing whatever Hammers did. Zuni was quiet.

There were three other figures in the cabin with him and Angus eyed them wearily. He knew two of them well enough, the third was new. None of them ever came out in the light so this was a bit odd.

He looked at the new figure whose shape wavered and broke apart as if a sputtering fire in a breeze. He was tall and would be imposing if he wasn’t so hazy. He had dark clothes and a machete similar to Angus’ own pig-sticker. He wore a mask, stark white, with cracks and stains and dark holes cut for breathing and seeing. They called him Voorhees and he stood silent in the corner, regarding Angus with a slight tilt to his head, like he was confused or trying to puzzle something out.

The second form, like a pale shadow by the door was a slight girl dressed all in white, her long, matted hair hung like seaweed over her face. Her arms were stained with blood, and Angus glanced at his hand and the same stain that covered his palm, impossible to wash away.

The third figure sat beside him and idly played with the clawed glove he wore. He smelt of burnt flesh, and his beaten fedora hid his charred face. Freddy spoke, “You got low the other night.” Angus nodded, he was strangely surprised and not surprised when he realized just how much Five Fingers sounded like John Henry.

“You’re not real, Fred,” Angus said.

“I know, I know,” the nemesis replied, “We all wanted to talk.”

Angus nodded towards the hockey mask, “I don’t know him.”

Freddy chuckled, “Sure you do. You met him, didn’t you? You’re part of his story.”

“I’m only a bit player.”

“Are you?” Freddy picked at a scab casually, “You gave that one quite a bit of thought last Friday. Just like you gave me thought, and you’ve given little Samara there a LOT of thought.”

“Maybe,” Angus said, “If ‘e draws me in ah’ll face ‘im. Bu’ th’new guy isn’ why you’re here. You look so differen’ in th’light.”

The girl in white spoke up, a harsh whisper, “You … you scared us.”

Angus chuckled, “Oh?”

“You started acting like we do,” Freddy said, “You disappeared the other night, when you sat across from the MC’s president. Why?”

Angus sat in silence, staring at the floorboards of the cabin, “They give a lot of talk about the Hard Question. To me, it’s not a question.”

Voorhees tilted his head quizzically, like a gore hound hearing a high pitched sound.

“My answer to their question is simple, I give it fast because that’s how it sits in my mind, there is no hesitation. The question is who? The answer is no one,” Angus stared towards the rising sun,  “Including myself. If it means saving one of them, I’d even kill myself.”

“Why did you do it though? The way you did? He caved your skull in with that hammer of his.”

Angus looked at Freddy, and then Samara, and tossed Voorhees a glance, “Once upon a time …”

They all snapped to. The casual conversation immediately became rapt, these figments of nightmare fed off of the new story like starving horses at a trough.

“There was a man, who was walking along and he fell in a hole. He was surrounded by black tunnels and shadow and there was no way out. He couldn’t reach the edge, but he could see out. He was trapped in the darkness; he was a prisoner in this nightmare.

“Along comes a priest, his skin glowing with holiness and light. ‘Father!’ the man calls up, ‘I’m trapped in this hole! Can you help me out?’ The priest nods, pulls out a paper, writes down a prayer. He tosses it in the hole with the man and keeps walking.

“Then a sawbones comes along. ‘Doc! Doc!’ the trapped man shouts, ‘Help me! I’m in this hole and I can’t get out!’ The sawbones writes out a script for a brew, tosses it down in the hole and keeps walking.

“Then a friend comes along,” Angus places his hand over his heart at this point, “and the man in the hole shouts up, ‘Bro! Help me, I’m trapped down here!’ The friend looks down in the hole, then, all at once, jumps inside. Our guy says, ‘What are you doing, man!? Now we’re both down here!’ His friend smiles at him, ‘Yeah, I know. I’ve been here before. I know the way out. Follow me.’”

They all sat in the morning stillness a moment, Samara finally said something.

“You joined his nightmare.”

Angus nodded, “I learned it from watching you.”

“And then you lead him out,” Freddy said.

Angus looked at Voorhees, “I did. I lead him out. And maybe I’ll do it again.” The masked nemesis grew uncomfortable under the Rover’s gaze and turned away, fading into the fabric of the sun’s light. Samara reached up and brushed her hair away from her baleful eye to gaze cleanly on Angus.

“Angus,” she said, “Promise you’ll do it again?”

Angus nodded as she also faded away. Freddy persisted, thinking.

“Go on Fred, get out of here, you don’t belong in the light,” Angus said.

Freddy looked at Angus, “I don’t think you do either.” Freddy also faded away and as he faded out Angus slowly woke up.

There was no sun, no warm light, just a cold empty cabin, with grey skies and ice falling from the sky. Reality bit hard. Angus sighed and looked at the empty beds and the cabins across the road, he thought of all the friends he had close to him. He thought of them all, and felt all at once, alone.