Charon, I-II

I.

The summer night air carried the fishy smell of the river. The moon was full but was hidden behind clouds and what little light it gave could not penetrate the thick canopy of trees at the base of the old train bridge. The small group of teenagers made a fire. One of them lit a joint and it passed from mouth to mouth as they went about creating their art by the flicker of the fire’s light.

The four chose separate spots, putting their tags over others trying to one-up the last artist’s stylized signature. The obscure collage of graffiti was compromised of dozens of names and doodles. The one with cornrows, Mike, was the first one done. Jerome, the other black kid with a shaved head, as well as a heavyset hispanic, Jose, finished at almost the same time minutes after. Pete, the only caucasian, was always last but his talent clearly showed in every piece of art he did which was never the same, unlike some taggers.

On that night Pete had choose to do a spine tingling interpretation of a grim reaper cradling a baby in its one arm while reaching out with its other hand. As with all his tags it was black and white with shades of grey for contrast and was so lifelike that it almost seemed like the picture could walk out of the wall and into reality. He finished his portrait with his signature red PS at the bottom of reaper’s black cloak then stepped back to admire his work.

They all sat down around the fire and opened the bottle of Jack Daniels Mike had bought with his fake license to celebrate the occasion. They admired each other’s work and listened to the waves splash against the rocks of the nearby beach.

“Where the fuck do you get that creepy shit from man? It’s either a crazy ass monster or zombie looking motherfucker.” Mike asked Pete who just shrugged the question off.

“Let him be, bro. Just chill.” Jerome interjected.

“I was just asking. Wanna make sure whitey here ain’t some psycho slasher whose gonna chop us into little bits. I mean really homie; remember that three-headed dog thing he sprayed on that billboard last week? Thing still giving me nightmares and this crazy-ass thing probably will too.” Mike said as he was passed the bottle and took a swig.

“Cerberus…” Pete muttered.

“You say somethin?” Jose asked.

“The three-headed dog, its name is Cerberus. In Greek mythology it would guard the underworld or the realm of the dead from the living.” Pete explained.

“Well how bout that? One of us actually paid attention in school.”

“Mike, cut it out bro. You’re just jealous cause you can’t do anything but bubble letters and half assed doodles.” Jerome said.

“Fuck you! I ain’t jealous of nobody. You the one who hangs out with this freak and been bringing him along with us every night. Why you so protective of him? He your gay lover? Are you a faggot or something? Huh, Romeo?” Mike snickered showing his gold incisor that twinkled in the light of the fire.

He hated that nickname and Mike knew it. He was always causing trouble and picking a fight, a type of attitude that just seemed to go perfectly with his appearance. The classic gangbanger who cares about nothing but his ego, Jerome surmised. Maybe its time someone puts him in his place. Jerome knocked him right in his teeth, turning that stupid little grin into a grimace, and they both sprawled on the ground wrestling and beating each other. Jose and Pete were taken by surprise, so it took them a couple seconds before they reacted and broke the two apart.

“Get your fuckin hands off me!” Mike said as he wiped blood from his mouth. “Gimmie my booze. I ain’t dealing with this shit no more.” He said walking away with Jose quick on his heels as always. They got better situated on their rocks by the fire. After a few seconds of silence, Pete spoke up.

“Thanks man. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me before other than my brother.”

“Don’t mention it. He’s an asshole but he’ll be over it in a few days. I hope I knocked some sense into that thick skull of his though.” Jerome said and smirked, wincing at the pain in his already swollen cheekbone. Jerome pulled a pre-rolled joint out of his Altoids can he hid his stash in and lit it.

“Where do ya come up with that stuff anyway?” Jerome asked passing the joint to Pete who shrugged and looked at his feet.

“It just comes to me and I draw whatever it is as I see it in my head.”

“You got real talent. Don’t let assholes like that bring ya down. You ever try painting or somethin? You could sell that stuff for some green.”

“I sketch a lot and I’m thinking 'bout majoring in art if I ever go to college. Maybe I’ll get a chance to paint then.”

“Well it don’t hurt to get an early start man. Watercolors probably don’t cost much. How come your pictures are always in black and white?”

“Its just how I-" at that moment Jose and Mike burst through the bushes cutting off Pete mid-sentence, both of them were sweating bullets.

“Pigs!” Jose was able to gasp as he ran past.

Jerome and Pete were already on their feet and running after them. Mike was in the lead and climbed the small hill up onto the bridge. They were all running full sprint down the center of the train tracks when Mike stopped suddenly, Jose crashing into him. There were flashlight beams on the other side of the bridge as well as behind them.

“Fuck!” Mike yelled. They were trapped in the center of the bridge and the lights were getting closer by the second.

“Fuck it! I’m jumping.” Mike said. Jerome’s eyes widened.

“Don’t man, look how fast that water’s moving!”

“I see kids jump off it all the time in the summer. I’m not going back to juvie.”

“Me neither.” Jose agreed joining Mike at the edge.

“Who’s comin? Or would ya rather the fuzz give you a ride to jail?” Jerome hesitated before stepping forward. He had jumped off of bridges for kicks before but never one so high. Plus, Black Bridge was notorious for kids who go under and never come back up. At that moment the sky opened up as the clouds receded away from the full moon, bathing them in light.

“On three, we all jump.” Mike commanded.

“Stop!” Pete yelled grabbing Jerome’s sleeve.

“You’ll die!”

“How do you know?” Jose asked.

“You just have to believe me. Its death down there.” The cops were only about sixty feet away from them.

“Sorry bro, we all got records.” Jerome explained.

“Leave the pussy behind come on. One!”

“Two!” Jose answered. Jerome shook Pete’s hand off his arm and took a deep breath to slow his heavily pounding heart.

“Three!” Jerome yelled and they all jumped off in unison. Pete called after them as they fell towards the water but because of the air rushing by his ears, Jerome couldn’t make out anything he was saying other than what sounded like "vortex" but that didn’t make sense. He held his breath and straightened his legs a second before hitting the river.

II.

The water was warmer than Jerome had expected despite it being the middle of July. He swam up as fast as he could, his lungs already aching for air but when he reached the top there was something like a gooey rubber sheet preventing him from accessing the precious oxygen. He opened his eyes but the water burned them like acid. Whatever was keeping him under was opaque; he could see light through it. He began to panic and started taking in water that tasted coppery, like blood, as he was caught in the current and slid along the sheet feeling for an opening. His fingers caught onto a small hole and he latched to it for dear life.

He ripped and tore till it was big enough for him to pull his head and torso through. He pulled his legs up onto whatever was covering the river and retched water out of his stomach. Gasping and coughing, he lay there for what seemed to be an eternity breathing the sweet cool air. He opened his still burning eyes to a starless pitch-black sky and finally sat up to take in his surroundings.

The world was completely different. The trees along the river were grey and had no leaves on them, their branches were twisted into odd angles and they seemed gargantuan. Like they were stretched out towards the heavens. There seemed to be little shrubbery. The few plants that he could see looked like thorn bushes but grew straight up like grass. They swayed in a nonexistent breeze, which made them seem more like tentacles searching for something to grasp.

There was a film that covered the entire river and it looked almost organic with black veins that spread out in every which way. There were some small openings. They were dispersed all around but grew in size towards the shoreline. The veins didn’t seem to touch the gaps, the entire thing reminded Jerome as a sort of spider web because of the pattern and it seemed to pulse with the current. It was immensely dark and what little light illuminating everything seemed to be coming from the moon. It instantly reminded Jerome about the solar eclipse he had been lucky enough to view a few years earlier when visiting family in Puerto Rico. Whatever it was though, it was much bigger than the moon he was used to. Staring at it sent shivers down his spine that made him look away.

He knew he was not on earth anymore. Is this hell? Am I dead? He wondered briefly but his aching muscles made him believe he was indeed alive. Either way he could see the bridge about a mile down river from him. He crawled his way carefully over to the beach and made his way to it slowly.

When he got close to the thorny grass it seemed to reach towards him but he fought the urge to touch it just in case. So he steered clear of the patches that lined the river. After a few minutes he realized that he had went up river as if the current was going in the opposite direction, which baffled him, and he was pondering this new bit of information when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw wet footprints going towards the trees. He noticed how the imprints in the gray sand were much deeper than his. Could be Jose? The Mexican was overweight and much heavier than anyone else in the little gang they had.

“Hello!” Jerome bellowed hoarsely as loud as he could with his sore throat. There was no reply. He could hear something like whimpering in the distance and he made his way towards the sound, which was in the same direction as the tracks. He could see a figure in the darkness moving nearly twenty feet away. He got as close as he could without going into the thorny grass and saw that it was indeed Jose. He was struggling, trying to get away from the thorns that tore into his flesh. Dozens of tentacles were latched onto his arms, legs and neck. They were slowly pulling him closer to the ground.

“Help…” He was barely able to croak around the thorn-covered tentacles that were hooked into his fat cheeks and jaw. Jerome acted instinctively and reached out to grab Jose’s hand but one of the black tentacles wrapped around his arm and the thorns sunk into his skin. Jerome tried to pull his arm free with all his strength but the harder he pulled the tighter the tentacle held on. My switchblade! He could still feel it in his shoe so he bent down to get it. Thankfully the knife didn’t slip out when he had fallen into the river.

He pressed the button on the hilt and the spring-loaded blade popped out. The tentacle seemed to react as he began to saw at it, pulling flesh away as it tried to recede. The pain was immense but Jerome wouldn’t give in when he had the upper hand. After a couple minutes he finally cut free. The thing hissed as it let go and bluish blood sprayed into the air as it limply dropped to the ground.

He looked at Jose who was almost completely covered in tentacles. His eyes had rolled back inside of his head and the black tentacles were far down his throat as if trying to get at what ever was inside. Jerome sadly knew Jose was beyond any help he could give him and retreated back to one of the trees. He leaned against it as he looked to the long cut that spiraled upward from his wrist to his elbow. It was bleeding profusely so he took off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding. He took one last look at Jose who was completely gone to the swarming black tentacles before stumbling back to the river.

Every muscle in his body ached but he pushed onward towards the bridge. I let him die. Jerome’s eyes started to well up with tears but he knew in his heart there was nothing he could’ve done for Jose and swallowed back the emotions for now. As he got closer to the bridge, it became more visible in the dim light. It was the same bridge for certain but it was more dilapidated and falling apart. Black roots grew up the sides like ivy, growing out of almost every crack and crevice. He paused briefly underneath the bridge deciding whether to cross or to continue onward.

“Jerome?” Came a voice from the darkness. He took a fighting stance with the switchblade still in his hand ready to take on whatever foul beast had snuck up behind him. He held out the knife like it was a cross protecting him from a vampire.

“Whoa, it’s me…” A figure said stepping out of the shadow of the bridge. It was several seconds before Jerome’s eyes adjusted to see the details of the figure’s black skin in the darkness. It was Mike. Jerome relaxed his stance and walked over to him. They stared at each other in silence for a while not knowing what to say. Then Mike spoke up.

“Are we dead?”

“I don’t know. I feel alive though. If we were dead I don’t think I’d be feeling any pain as I’m in now.”

“Are you ok?”

“I got cut up and nearly drowned but I’ll live.”

“Have you seen Jose?” Mike asked to which Jerome not knowing how to answer just shook his head instead of telling Mike what happened to his best friend.

“I think we should keep moving.” Mike said, “There was somethin chasing me and I hid here.” He paused as if trying to find the words, “It looked like a bunch of worms or snakes squirming together but it moved like a man. It might still be around. Maybe we could try and make it to the city?”

“I don’t know. Where ever we are I don’t think the city’s a safe bet,” Jerome said, “lets just follow the shoreline in that direction for now.””

They quietly began to move down river side by side. They had traveled only about a football field’s length away from the bridge when a screeching sound pierced the air making Jerome jump. It was coming from a shrouded figure in the trees ahead of them. It was almost seven feet tall and looked just like the grim reaper Pete had spray painted on the bridge earlier. It was moving slowly closer to them.

“Oh shit! Run!” Mike yelled as he ran back to the bridge. They were getting closer but there were more of the reapers coming from the woods attracted by the noise. They went by the trees and started to climb the hill when Jerome stopped Mike from running straight into a patch of the thorn-covered tentacles.

“Don’t they’ll grab onto you and won’t let go.”

“Well you got a better plan?” Mike screamed into his ear. Their retreat was already blocked by one of the giant figures. Jerome looked at the bridge a few feet away; the wall was only about ten feet high.

“Up! Climb Up!” Jerome urged him. He got down by the ground and indicated to Mike that he would give him a boost and Mike grabbed onto the ledge. After Mike had joisted himself up he reached down for Jerome’s hand. With the help, Jerome was able to reach the ledge but as soon as he did a reaper wrapped its gnarly fingers around his ankle pulling him back down. Jerome and Mike’s eyes connected for a split second. Jerome could see the cogs turning in Mike’s brain. He knew what Mike was going to do even before he had committed to the choice.

“Sorry, Romeo. Every man for himself.” Mike said before letting go of Jerome’s hand. His gold tooth sparkled in his smirk as Jerome fell backward onto the ground and the reaper climbed on top of him. He struggled against it trying to pull away but the creature was too strong. Jerome punched its head hoping to stun it. The thing just shrugged his blows off as if they didn’t hurt, its hood falling back to reveal its grotesque face.

The reaper’s head was mostly bald except for a few patches of hair that still clung to its scalp and had no ears other than small holes indicating where they once were. Its eyes seemed human but there was no coloration in the iris, just gray like a person with cataracts but the pupils were still black. Its nose was just two small slits that had formed into a short snout. Its mouth was perfectly round and reminded Jerome of a lamprey’s but had no teeth or lips, just gums that glistened with saliva. The thing was unlike anything he had ever seen but Jerome could tell it was once human at one time, changed by the environment it had come to inhabit.

He froze not knowing what to do, as the snout seemed to extend getting longer as if the thing was trying to embrace him in a kiss. There were wisps of blue mist that seemed to be coming out of Jerome’s pores heading for the creature’s mouth. He started to feel the life force drained out of him as his whole body was covered in a pins and needles sensation. Is that my soul? He knew he couldn’t last much longer and his mind turned to his switchblade that had fallen onto the sand only feet away. He stopped holding the creature’s arm and reached with his right hand feeling for it. Doing so made the reaper get a better grip and its face crept closer to his. Jerome’s vision was slowly fading to black as he finally touched the cool metal hilt. With all the strength he had left, Jerome slashed at the beast’s neck. It retreated hissing, gripping its throat while blue blood gushed forward. Seeing his chance, Jerome thrust the blade towards where the thing’s heart should’ve been.

The reaper fell backward as it thrashed with spasms. Its shroud began to dissolve showing a sexless, boney body with the switchblade deeply imbedded in its chest. The black mist that was once its shroud seeped back into Jerome, invigorating him with a power he had never experienced before. He gave a triumphant yell that echoed for miles but was cut off by a thunderous bass sound that shook the entire world. It was so loud that he had to cover his ears, shutting his eyes from the pain of the vibrations that ripped through his head.

When the sound waned Jerome opened his eyes and squinted because of the green light that now covered the area. It was coming from the moon, but he wasn’t able to look directly at it because his eyes were still adjusting to the sudden change in light. Jerome stood up and saw that the few other reapers were closer now but just stood there as if in awe. Jerome turned to the bridge and could now see where there were bricks missing that made perfect hand holds. He scrambled up and over the wall as fast as he could nearly running into another reaper at the top.

Mike was in its clutches but his body was completely limp, his face frozen in terror. It looked like all his life force had been drained, leaving nothing but shriveled carcass. The reaper’s eyes glowed under its hood with the newly consumed energy. The lifeless body slumped to the ground as the creature reached for Jerome who turned and ran in the other direction onto the bridge. He could see the other side was oddly still blanketed in darkness. He had run several yards before tripping over the railroad tracks and landing on his hands and knees scraping them on the concrete. He looked up towards the sky now adjusted to the light to see something that made his whole body completely numb and his hair stand on end.

Where there was once an eclipsed moon or sun was a giant round eye that was giving off light. The pupil was in the shape of a figure eight and its iris was a green that was speckled with tinges of orange while the rest of it was black and outlined in the night sky by a halo of light. It was so large that he could see the pupil contract; the muscles in the iris wiggling like worms. The eye seemed to be staring straight at Jerome bathing the entire bridge in sinister beams of light. Jerome’s head pounded as voices echoed through his skull. He heard some English and maybe Spanish but all the words seemed to slip through his fingers. It spoke in a thousand voices and languages but not uniform, just pure chaos. He knew that it was something ageless with conscientiousness that far exceeds any human understanding. He had never felt so terrified and small in all his life, he felt as if a god was looking upon him. He knew then that he would never be able to sleep again without that hideous eye plaguing his dreams.

What sounded like a pack of wolves howling at once woke him out of his trance. Jerome sprang to his feet and ran, not wanting to find out what other cruel beings lurked in this hellish domain. He was hyperventilating as the last of the whispers faded from his mind and skidded to a halt just before falling into a giant hole in the center of the bridge. It was a gap cutting through the entire bridge twelve feet wide. Through it he could see a huge whirlpool spiraling in the river below. The only thing that crossed the precipice was a railing of one of the train tracks, and there was no other way to get around the gaping hole. The reapers were slow and he could easily weave around them but whatever he heard was getting closer and was big. The trees bent and broke as it forced its way through the woods moving at an alarming pace.

It was too late, there was no turning back, Jerome had no choice but to cross. He stepped carefully onto the metal rail trying not to look down or glance up at the eye in the sky keeping his attention solely on the task at hand. He was more than halfway across and inching closer by the second. The beast had reached the bridge and its tremendous weight made the bridge tremble as if it were an oncoming locomotive. The metal rail creaked, shifting slightly almost making him lose his footing but Jerome was able to maintain his balance.

He heard heavy footsteps behind him and carefully turned around to see a gigantic three-headed hound. Cerberus. The beast towered over him, close to twenty feet tall, and stopped right in front of the gap. Its paws were big enough to kill Jerome in one swipe, the razor sharp claws digging several inches into the concrete. It had short black hair covering its entire body but its hide looked tough as a rhino’s. The tail wrapped around its forelegs and Jerome could see that it was long like a lizard’s rather than a canine’s. The beast’s necks were long and muscular holding heads that must’ve weighed maybe a hundred pounds each. All three of the heads snarled at him, drool dripping down teeth as long and sharp as kitchen knives. The overall shape of its head reminded him of a pit bull but with large burning red-hot coals for eyes that made Jerome feel like he was melting from their very stare.

Jerome stood there transfixed unable to move for several seconds until all three heads bellowed bone chilling howls simultaneously. The sudden sound startled him making Jerome lose his balance and footing on the rail. One of the beast’s heads snapped forward to grab its prey but missed Jerome by centimeters. Drops of drool hit his face as he tumbled backwards through the air. Jerome caught one last glimpse of the unholy eye in the sky as he was falling through the air just before he was swept away by the dark waters of the whirlpool.