Chapter 21 Indy
Indy
We sit until the rain stops, the air is thick with condensation, and my hair is sticking to my forehead, but all I can focus on is him.
I know I should be pressing him for answers, but he seems so fragile right now, like his whole world has tilted on its side. So I don’t say anything. I just sit, a silent comfort.
Before long, he rises to his feet, making his way over to the other side of the opening. I watch as he lifts a shovel off the ground and moves to his right.
He looks almost robotic, like it’s second nature to him, something that’s built into his bones. The sounds of wet dirt being pulled from the earth echo around us.
My body is still frozen in place as I watch him move around the self-created graveyard. Replacing dirt with the dead, then rebuilding the forest again. It doesn’t take long for me to become restless, searching for anything to make me feel useful.
Should I be helping him bury dead bodies? Probably not. But I’m so deep in this mess at this point, I don’t think anything could make it worse.
Rising to my feet, I brush the mud off my legs and walk over to him. He notices me, freezing in his tracks, a shovel full of dirt stuck in mid-air. His head cocks to the side, his curiosity piquing.
What are you doing? I hear.
“Helping,” I reply, glancing around at the bodies surrounding us.
I don’t know where to start, so I just pick one.
A girl lying closest to me, probably in her early twenties , who has the most beautiful crimson hair.
It’s such a deep color that you can’t tell where her hair ends and the blood starts.
It’s interesting, seeing a dead body… there’s still the smallest bit of life left in her, her body hasn’t gone completely cold. The pinkish tint of her cheeks is still visible, and her skin hasn’t started to turn grey. She looks… peaceful. Like she’s frozen in a moment of beauty.
Call it morbid curiosity, call it crazy, call it whatever you want. But, I like to think in another life, I was probably a mortician.
I’ve always been interested in death. Growing up, there were always paranormal and true crime shows playing on my TV.
I had such an interest in learning about those things; it was all I would watch.
I never could’ve imagined I would actually be using the knowledge, especially not to bury a dead body in the middle of the woods.
I know I don’t have enough upper body strength to pick her up fully, so I lock my arms under hers, pulling her toward the hole.
I’ve only moved her about a foot, but my muscles are already screaming. Who knew a dead body could be so fucking heavy?
The Doctor hasn't stopped looming in the corner, like some creepy ass stalker. He’s watching me through his mask, and it makes it so hard to gauge what he’s thinking. Is he curious? Upset? Or simply just watching?
I’m just watching you, angel, he replies.
I practically drop the body I’m dragging.
“How did you hear that?” I stutter.
The essence. I’ve been able to hear you since the beginning.
Shit. Shit. Shit. That means he knows everything. He knows I don’t trust him. He knows I think he’s hot as sin. He knows it all. Fuck.
You think I’m hot, little raver?
“I-uh, I…” I trail off, not exactly sure how to respond.
Come with me, angel. Reaching his hand out toward me, I hesitate for just a moment before intertwining my fingers with his.
We don’t travel far, just to the opposite edge of the clearing. He pulls me into the forest a few steps deeper, and I’m met with a view that takes my breath away.
We stand there at the head of the festival, on top of a hill positioned just behind the main stage. From here, we can see everything. Every stage, every vendor, every dancing body.
Lasers dance above the crowd, smoke rising high above it, like some kind of fog.
“They look…happy,” I sigh to myself. It’s almost overwhelming seeing it like this. I never realized how many people and how big the festival actually was.
They do, he states plainly. For now.
He waves his hand across the view, like some old-fashioned magician or something. A laugh nearly escapes my lips, but then I see it. Everything shifts.
Colors become muted, and the smell of rot and decay replaces the sticky sweetness of the weed smoke that was here just moments ago.
Like some kind of twisted mirage that hides the truth from the world. It’s not happy. It’s not beautiful. It’s infected. The perfect version of an uncanny valley. So close to being truly human, but something is just…off.
Warm leather slides between my fingertips as The Doctor places his hand in mine. The silence I have when I’m with him is something I could never take for granted. The quiet of us, just being. But something is tugging at my soul– my selfish need to hear him again.
I’m sorry I hurt you. The words swirl in my head.
I never could’ve known that you were going to be the one who was marked.
The way it showed Tommy wasn’t the same as what I saw.
I only saw you; you’re light. I was completely blinded.
And I forgot about the task I had given him last year.
He explains, his voice quivers, but sounds remorseful.
“It’s okay,” I breathe out, the pads of my fingers running along his worn gloves. “Neither of us could’ve known this is what it would come to.” My words are soft, barely heard over the loud music blaring from the festival below.
You’ve become the cure I never knew I needed.
I swore to rid this world of pestilence, a duty I’ve held since before I understood its weight.
But now I only want you to take my infection.
Rid me of it like a parasite being ripped from its burrow.
I’m bound to you as infection is bound to the pestilence. I have no cure. I only wish for yours.
His words sink into my skin like how it feels to sit in a warm bath after a long day. I scooch in closer to his chest. He towers above me, his pointed beak pointing high above my head.
I don’t say anything. If there’s one thing I’ve learned by being with him. Silence isn’t as empty as I once thought. Now it’s filled with him.
The stillness reminds me of his mask pressed against my ear, his touch lingering on my body. He taught me to listen, even when something isn’t spoken, to feel the energy buzzing through the air before he finds my skin, to hear the confessions stitched between each other's heartbeats.
Our worlds were never meant to collide. But here I am, standing next to death above the neon lights, and I’m realizing it feels like home.