As the pale blue flash of light dissapated, a sharp pain swept over my body starting from the lower half of my left leg. When I looked I realized with horror that the whole leg was gone; instantly snatched away by the dreadful circle and replaced by a bloody stump.
It was equivalent exchange - my leg for the life of an alley cat; our poor innocent Milkshakes who was taken away from us in an instant - there when Billy and I became friends in the first place - and yet here we thought a few drops of blood would suffice.
We suffered because we were children trapped in the illusion that all lives are worth saving.
"Nergal? Billy?"
I could hear them both screaming, but could not see through the dense smoke that was still rising from the summoning circle. Not to mention the bulb of the only light in the basement had shattered when a stray electric bolt hit it, so my eyes had to rely on the pale moonlight seeping in through a tiny window.
Lying in a prone position, I turned around to witness the same kicking and screaming Nergal that would haunt my nightmares to this very day.
"It's pulling me in, Mandy! Help!" he yelled, as dark tentacles roped around his wrists and ankles, then his neck; slowly dragging him toward the glowing blue gate to Hell.
I only had a few seconds to think, and even less time to scrawl another circle unto the floor with the dull piece of chalk I had tucked in my pocket.
He looked to me pleadingly.
"They're going to take me, Mandy! Please don't let them take me!"
I cringe now, remembering how his fingernails bled from how desperately he clawed at the cement floor to try and free himself, as I hastily drew a second circle on the bare knee of my one remaining leg.
It is then that I looked up briefly, and caught a glimpse of Billy.
He was curled up in the corner with his face hidden in his hands, sobbing.
...
A photograph on a dresser features a dozen children lined up dressed in matching grey uniforms. A young Billy stands next to a wheelchair bound and legless young Mandy whose arms are wrapped around a teddy bear, at the center of the shot.
"Humankind can not gain anything without first giving something of equal value. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is the first law of summoning." Says Mandy off-screen.
Tongues of fire are reflected on the glass face of the photograph.
"Back then, we thought that was life's one and only truth."
...
Billy and I could not stay in that basement for long, as our memories of that night sunk deep into our bloodstreams like poison from a snake bite.
For a moment, the hard look on his face melts away as we quietly examine the dry blood stains still streaking across the floor in some places. I guess that deep down he really is still the same Billy that cowered in the corner bawling his eyes out, no matter how much he has endured.
"You know it wasn't your fault, Billy," I said to him, as the next bus we get on roars to life.
"I'd like to believe that."
He grunts, then tilts his hat so that the shade conceals his eyes.
I ask him about where our next stop will be, only to receive a vague 'to meet up with an old friend' as an answer.
The bus rolls through a dimly lit tunnel with colorful graffiti plastered on the walls, where the amplified racket of its rattling tires was almost deafening, until it turns unto a crumbling, potholed street flanked by a homely hair salon here, a discount store and a gas station soaked in the penetrating scent of diesel over there.
'Run down' is what I would call this part of Endsville, and I am overwhelmed by a strange feeling I nonetheless push to the back of my mind as when we get off at a bus stop with shattered glass panels we are greeted by a tough-looking crowd of I what smells to be heavy smokers and drinkers.
A youngish Mexican dude wearing a plain white T-shirt and baggy jeans that hang below his waist approaches us as Billy is having a tough time trying to carry me on his back, the bag with all of his stuff in it and my walker off the bus in one go.
"Here, let me help you out a little there, soldier," the guy says, stretching his arm to take the folded walker from Billy.
I can feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense up, but thankfully he does not protest. This is definitely not a good place to pick a fight - our hombre's friends were watching nearby, with their backs leaned against a shiny black convertible parked on the sidewalk; rocking their heads to the beat of festive Spanish music blaring on the radio.
Unfortunately the other guy doesn't know when to leave us alone.
"Hey man, do you need anything?" He asks, deliberately blocking our way.
"Do I look like someone with a lawn that needs mowing?" Billy tries to sidestep past, but he just moves in front of him again.
"C'mon, you know what I'm talking about."
He retrieves from his pocket a small plastic bag filled with what looks like sugar, but I'll much sooner attempt to ride a bicycle down main street than believe that that's actually what it is.
Billy seizes him by his shirt collar, and pulls him so close to his face that I can smell the cologne beneath the bar stank.
"Get the hell out of my face with that shit," he snarls.
"Billy..."
From the corner of my eye I can see the crew by the convertible getting antsy, and pinch Billy's shoulder to get his attention when a series of clicks sound off in my ear, coming from the opposite direction.
I turn to look and see three black guys standing further down the sidewalk, three loaded handguns pointed our way.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and another rock.
"You Diablos should know better than to be stepping on our turf," one of the guys from the pistol packing second gang says in a deep voice, as he takes a step forward. "And you there - soldier boy!"
He cocks his head at Billy, grinning with what I gather to be amusement.
"Welcome home, brother."
Billy walks over to him and to my surprise they knock knuckles like old friends.
"So this is the kind of shit you've been up to since they sent you home, huh Irwin?"