"Hurry up. Get packed."
With those words, the hanging corpse before him disappeared.
Time to go...this is the last one. Have to pull Eileen away from that sketchbook...
So tired...
Henry turned to leave the room, but he tripped over his own feet and stumbled into the rusty grating of the little circular space. His face hit the cold metal with a thwack and a rattle, and he clutched at it to keep from falling. But his knees would not cooperate, and he slid to the floor.
He pushed himself up and sat back against the grating, legs straight out in front of him.
Just a moment. I need a moment to think.
Not-thinking had kept him from realizing Walter's true purpose until their last encounter in 206. Not-thinking had kept him running around, backtracking, taking far too long to figure out how to get out of the prison and the forest and the other places while getting attacked again and again and again...if he'd just stopped to think...
Henry would be damned if he was going to let not-thinking get him and Eileen killed.
Time to acknowledge the elephant staring at me from the corner of the room. My room. The answer is there. It's got to be.
Start at the beginning. What have I got that I can use? My axe here...the pistol, but I can't haul too much ammo...same for the revolver...and, nothing seems to hurt him anyway. Not for long. So, I can't kill him.
Can I...get to him somehow? He's got to have a weakness, something.
It's all about his mother. He wants his mother back. I can't give that to him. I can't destroy my room or anything to stop him, either. He won't stop until he's got that back.
Why does it mean so much to him?
He's been lonely all of his life. He wants his mother to love him...he thinks that that's going to help him, going to make everything OK. Mommy will love him, take care of him, heal all his pain. Doesn't matter that Mommy has sheet-rock walls, one-bedroom-one-bath and a fine view of the neighbors. He's so lonely that he'd do anything to get her love.
Henry felt a pang inside that he hadn't felt in a long time. The last time had been...
Two days after I last saw Leslie. I was sitting in my dorm room, on my bed, looking at the phone. I wanted it to ring, but I was afraid of what might happen if it did.
Then, he'd realized that it wasn't going to ring. Not ever.
I felt relieved at the time...
But now, he remembered the brief twisting inside that had gone as soon as it had come. It was the same feeling that he felt now. As if something was squeezing his heart like a sponge.
Henry knew that now he had no choice but to revisit that.
Loneliness...I remember. I didn't know how much it could eat away at you until now. It's so easy to just bury and ignore and pretend that it doesn't matter.
But look what it did to Walter. It made him into…whatever the hell he is now. And until a few days ago, I was happy in my little room by myself. I wanted people to leave me alone with my camera and my TV. But now...
Now, I would give anything, anything to be able to get out and talk to somebody. Anybody. Even given all that's been happening, just being able to talk to Eileen now and then has been...
I wonder if Walter feels that way too...maybe that's why he's keeping us around for now...
Walter...
He...
Henry hesitated, but he knew that he had to go on.
He's...
He felt the lips on his forehead again, and the light electric jolt as well.
Why did I react to him like that? I've never...gone for guys, never. It's just not been me. I've only ever been interested in women. Never even thought about that.
But he smelled so good...and his hand was very warm...and he seemed definitely interested...very much so. It's been a long time since anybody treated me that way.
Henry took a deep breath and plowed forward.
I'm special to him. Doesn't matter how...well, it does, but that's secondary. He wants me, no matter how. I'm his Receiver. Ugh. OK, let's not think about that just now.
But...all of this, everything I've seen...he's been showing it to me. Building me up. Giving me what he thinks I need. Like a play, put on in front of me. But the blood is real in this case, of course. And the actors are really dead.
...but it's for me. All for me. When was the last time that that happened? That somebody went to all that trouble just for you?
Feeling sorry for yourself, Henry? Poor widdle lonely me?
No. It's my own damn fault. And if I get out of here, I need to do something about it. Not a big concern right now, since the "if" is pretty damn iffy-looking. But for now, I have his undivided attention. Which, God damn me, feels kinda good. Really good, in a way. Dangerously good.
Am I really that desperate? Is he? Is he just reaching out for anything at all? Any sort of interaction, regardless of how it comes?
Wait a minute. How do I know that he really understands that? What he wants? He's desperate for contact and love...does he really understand the difference between a mother's love and...
He thinks I can give him what he needs. Because I can help him in one way, I can help in every way. He wants me to be everything for him. Receiver...companion...lover? All the same to him. Something he doesn't have. Something he never got from anyone.
It's all because of love. He never learned the distinctions between the love of a mother, the love of a sister, the love of a ... lover. He's desperate for something he doesn't understand at all.
Both of them...him and the little kid…they're both desperate.
Both of them.
Then, Henry had an idea. A terrible, horrible, marvelous idea.
He hated himself for it. Hated that he had to think that way. Hated Walter for putting him in this situation. Hated what he'd found because of it. Hated what he'd have to do. Hated having no other options.
Does he really know the difference?
I don't think he does.
What I need is time…more than anything. And I think I know how I can buy some.
They stood facing each other by the pool of blood. Out of the corner of his eye, Henry saw Eileen tottering in her purple heels, in a daze.
Thank God. At least she's not going to know what's going on.
"You're it," Walter said, his smile even more otherworldly than before. "The last of the twenty-one sacraments. The final sign … the Receiver of Wisdom."
"This is it, then," Henry said.
"Yes, Henry. This is where it ends. How it ends…that's up to you."
"Not really."
"No, not really," Walter admitted. "One way or another, you are going to be at my side in Mother. At last, my brother."
His brother, huh?
"What is up to you is whether you join me willingly, or whether I must bring you myself."
He moved closer. Henry backed away, but Walter was too fast for him; he took Henry's head in his hands and held it firmly. Henry found himself staring down at Walter's throat again.
"In here is the wisdom of the Sacraments. I am the Conjurer. You are my Receiver. We must complete the ritual. Together."
Walter bent over him, and Henry felt a light warm pressure on the top of his head.
"You and me. In the arms of Mother, forever."
One hand pulled Henry closer to him. The other hand stroked his cheek, and a thumb lifted his chin. The ice-blue-gray eyes held...love. All-encompassing, childlike, unconditional.
"Together?"
"Yes!" Walter smiled. "Together. In Mother."
Henry nodded, and dropped his eyes.
"How...does this work?"
Walter's smile was open, happy. He shook his head, still smiling.
"I don't know, Henry. It just does."
I don't know, either. Never been down this road before.
But Walter didn't seem to mind. His happiness was contagious. Henry couldn't help but smile back.
You know what, Walter? Neither do I.
I want to let go...you do too. I can tell. It would be so easy.
…Do it.
"What about you?"
The hand on his cheek stopped abruptly, and Walter stared at Henry for a moment.
"What do you mean?"
Henry stepped back. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"I know why you're doing this. This isn't about you. This is for him. The other Walter."
"We're the same person."
"No, not completely. He's a little boy. You'll be a killer twenty-one times over."
"He was me, once. So long ago. I remember..."
"Not any more, though," Henry said slowly. "Not any more. Too much has happened."
Walter said nothing, and Henry continued.
"Once this is all done, he will have his Mother, right?"
Walter smiled broadly. "Yes. Forever."
"What will you have?"
"What?"
"You know what I mean. He will have his Mother, but what will you have?"
For once, Walter's smug mask slipped a little. He hesitated.
"He won't need you any longer. What happens to you then?"
"It…it doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does. We'll all be here forever…what will you have after you've given him what he wants?"
Walter's mouth dropped open. He looked around as the question seemed to sink in. His lips opened and closed, but nothing came out.
Henry waited.
"I...I don't know," Walter finally said. He shook his head. For a moment, he seemed like the lost little boy that Henry had met in the cemetery by the orphanage, a lifetime ago. The boy for whom this man would kill over and over and give up his own soul.
"Nothing. You will have nothing, Walter."
"No. I will have his happiness. I will have made that happen. That's why I've done all of this."
"He will have that. And if you're lucky, you'll get to see it. But you won't have anything but the blood of twenty-one people on your hands and an eternal hell haunted by their spirits."
Walter stared at him, slack-jawed. Before he could react, Henry was close in front of him, grasping the taller man by the arms.
"What did they ever do to you, Walter? Cynthia...she died horribly, we both know that. Did she really deserve that? Richard was an asshole, yeah, but he didn't... And Eileen...remember? She gave you her doll. You told me."
Walter's eyes flickered over to her wobbling figure on the walkway.
"Yes, I remember. She was so kind to me, that one day in the subway..."
"And for that," Henry continued, "does she really deserve to haunt this place forever? Floating down the hallways, groaning, mindlessly suffering for eternity?"
Walter was silent.
"I saw Cynthia, Walter. In the subway. She…she was in pain. So much pain. Do you want that for Eileen? Really?"
"I…I didn't have a choice."
"Why should Eileen have to suffer that way? For that matter, why should I?"
"You?"
"Me. Your Receiver. Walter, if you kill me, I'm stuck here too, forever. You know that. I saw it, remember? I don't want that kind of hell."
"I have to." His jaw was set. "I have to give him his Mother back. There's no other way." His eyes stared off into the distance.
Henry placed a finger lightly on Walter's cheekbone and turned his head back to face him.
"Do you really think so?"
Walter said nothing, but there was doubt in those eyes...
"So what about you? Have you, you, gotten anything out of all of the killing and blood and pain yet? Have you found anything that you want for yourself?"
"...no."
Henry's finger traced along the jawline slowly, and the eyes grew unfocused.
"Nothing at all?"
The jaw tightened under his finger.
"I know. What you've had to give up for him. Your freedom, your soul, your life..."
"Everything."
"No. Maybe not."
The eyes focused, and narrowed.
"Get to the point."
It's now or never, Henry.
"You have forever, Walter. He has forever." Henry took a deep breath. "I don't."
Walter's eyes flew open.
"They're all mindless spirits, you know. You know better than anyone. They don't think, don't feel..." His hand cupped the other man's jaw, and a single finger dragged along the cheek. "But I do. And you do too. I can tell."
Silence.
"I'm going to die, Walter. In six minutes, or in sixty years. I don't know. But I don't have forever. We don't have forever."
Henry raised a hand to Walter's head, and guided it down to his. He turned slightly, and his hand brushed the long blond locks back as his lips moved to the ear beneath. He felt Walter tremble before him, and he shivered just a little.
He's like a nervous teenager. So am I. He's right where I want him.
Henry felt a little rush, a small vein of sadism that he hadn't known he had. He stroked the soft, smooth hair absently, acutely conscious of how small Walter seemed to him.
I understand now...why some are addicted to this kind of power.
We're two very lonely people...see what that has brought us to. He's seeking something he doesn't even know exists, and I...
Just this once...just for a moment...
He breathed in slowly, and heard Walter's own breath catch deep in his throat.
Ah. There it is.
His lips parted, and he whispered into Walter's ear.
"He can wait. He can wait for us."
"I…"
"What's the rush? We have now."
Walter's shoulders dropped just a fraction, but Henry knew.
"Yes," came the response, from just above his own ear. Henry continued slowly stroking the long hair back over the ear in front of him. The hair was silky and smooth, like a woman's. "Her time will come."
"Of course. And when it does...the last Sacrament will complete the ritual. But not just yet."
And maybe in the interim, I can come up with a way out of this mess…
Henry's lips were millimeters from Walter's earlobe.
"Give us now, Walter. Please. For me."
The things I have to say and do...
God…help me.
Walter's arm came around him, and then the other. He shook, and Henry heard the strangled sob.
"It's OK, it's OK," he said. "I'm here. I'm here for you."
Walter's embrace was comforting, which surprised him. Henry stroked the blond head on his shoulder and felt the agony coursing through the other man.
What did they do to him...poor guy. Whoa…I can't believe I just thought that.
Just then…
"…Mom…Mom…" Knock.
Oh shit.
"…Mom…let me in…" The knocking was loud and insistent.
SHIT!
Walter jumped back as if burned by Henry's touch.
"Walter…what is it?" Henry asked slowly, his heart in his mouth.
"You…" The mask dropped back over his face, and once again he was the smug man in the coat. But…
He's furious. That's it. I'm screwed.
The pale eyes met his, and asked a single question.
How could you?
Henry didn't want to know the answer to that.
"What about…"
Walter shook his head no.
"But…"
"No."
Henry shrugged. "It could have been…"
"Yes. It would have."
Yep. Maybe. I don't know. Moot point now. What's gone is gone.
Time for Plan B. Wish I had one.
Walter shook his head sadly. His breath was ragged, but his gaze was clear. He slowly extracted a long steel pipe from under his coat, and as Henry watched, his colors faded to dark grays, like in an old-time movie.
"Before I do this," he said, "I'd like to say that it's been a pleasure, Henry. I've never enjoyed working with anyone as much as I have with you. If things had been different…"
"If things had been different," Henry muttered, "I wouldn't be standing here thinking of the best way to smash your face in right now."
Walter nodded. "I don't blame you. Are you sure that you're not going to cooperate?"
"Not in any sense of the word."
"What a pity."
This whole situation. In many ways.
"Still, it's all the same in the end. See you there soon."
Then, Henry took a deep breath and did the unthinkable. He smiled at Walter. A big, cheesy, toothy, shit-eating grin.
Walter stepped back, momentarily stunned. His eyes followed Henry's hand as it dipped into a jeans pocket and extracted a small red box.
"Walter, you didn't watch enough movies when you were a kid. I guess that prison of yours didn't have TV. If you had, there's one thing that you would have learned."
Henry opened the box. Inside lay a tiny piece of shriveled tissue.
Walter's face went white.
God, I hate having to do this...
"Never, ever, explain your evil plans to someone before you kill him. Or to the guy who lives in his place before him, either."
Before Walter could react, Henry closed the box, grasped it firmly in his hand, and took off in a dead sprint toward the enormous roaring figure that overhung the arena…
And so, that's how it really ended. Killed the homicidal nutcase, got the girl and the guy, and made the world safe for humanity. All in a day's work for Henry Townshend.
What?
…You have GOT to be shitting me, Pyle.
Man. Why do you have to say that?
Because it's really obvious.
What…you don't think I'm his type?
I wouldn't even know how to answer that.
Lots of the fanfic writers seem to.
Yeah, I've noticed.
…
Waitaminute…I get it now. You're just tweaking them. And me.
Ha ha.
Like I said before…asshole.
Sorry. But given all the crap they put me through…
It's understandable.
It's not your fault.
Well, some of it is. Mind if I put this up too?
Go for it. As long as you promise not to torture me any more.
Sorry, can't do that.
Well, it was worth a try...