The Satyr and The Traveler

Claire sat in the dark, a single candle lit upon the coffee table. She stared into the flame as she ate the MRE from Other Eric’s pack. She replayed the killing of Other Claire at the camp site, the feel of her neck breaking as she bled out onto the ground making her shiver. I’m not a killer… But the epiphany that Gabriel wanted her to kill her others was so abhorrent. What was the purpose? It was something that he was reluctant to tell her, and it pissed her off. Killing one of John Friedman’s others was one thing, the man was an asshole, and she could convince herself that killing one of them wasn’t so terrible. But why kill her others? An angel telling her to kill… herself. Wasn’t suicide a mortal sin? Does it really count as suicide? she thought cynically.

Within her a battle started to wage. On one side was her anger. Anger over some insane being wanting her to travel the realities and kill herself out of ‘faith’ in what he was telling her. Granted, what she had seen over the last week was something that she couldn’t even comprehend, and Gabriel obviously knew a lot about it. She had to give him that much credit, and it did deserve some amount of ‘faith’. But she needed to know what the endgame was, and that was his secret.

On the other side was the chasm that she saw in her waking and sleeping moments. The chasm that called out to her to do exactly what Gabriel wanted. The chasm that was just wide enough for her not to be able to cross with a jump and called out to be filled with the souls of her others. It, like Gabriel, didn’t tell her why she needed to cross to the other side, just that she had to devote all of her effort to getting there. She saw the reflection of the glow of the souls in her mind’s eye. The compulsion pulsated within her. She was never addicted to anything in her life, but she imagined that what she felt now was just that.

Claire was brought out of her reverie by a thumping sound that seemed to have no epicenter. She stopped eating and looked left to right when the hum of electricity returned to the land. Squinting her eyes, she set down her food and quickly turned off all of the lights that had come on. She hadn’t heard a living soul all day, but with power restored, no doubt people would start showing up, and she didn’t want to be found. This may be home, she thought, but I trust noone.

She finished her meal and looked around her. she had to clean up. If anybody chose to come up here, then she didn’t want to give them any reason to snoop around. It took two hours by candlelight and the light of the streetlights from outside. When it came time to do something with Eric’s body, though, she could only do it through tears. Claire rolled his stiff corpse into the comforter from their bed, forcing herself not to kiss him as she looked at his face for the last time. As quietly as was possible, Claire drug his wrapped body down the stairs and outside. There, she had to keep her head on a swivel to ensure that nobody was aware of her.

The streets and sidewalks, though, remained empty, and she placed Eric’s body in a shadow-covered corner of the basement. Claire returned to her apartment and opened a few windows to let out the stench of death. Under the kitchen sink, she found the spray can of Lysol and gave the entire place a generous helping of it. As she sat down to rest, she realized that she was sweaty, and still wearing the Upper Perk Police coveralls. Jumping up excitedly, Claire hustled to the bathroom sink and turned the water on. Hot water! Shower!

She let the water roll over her body like a waterfall. The dirt washed off of her and she watched as it spiraled down the drain. Never had she gone more than a day without a hot shower, and this was her first one in over a week. She stood there, hands on the wall propping up her leaning form, and basked in the glory of cleanliness. Right next to godliness! And she winked to nobody but herself. She washed her body twice, skin red from the water’s heat. It wasn’t until the hot water began to give out that she finally shut it off and dried herself. It took all of her will power to best the compulsion to put on bed clothes, but the last thing she wanted was to have to run for her life in pajamas. So, she found her most comfortable jeans and hoodie and smiled. She couldn’t remember having felt so good!

Sleep took her in moments as she lay down on the bed. There was a certain emptiness to it, though, as she always had trouble falling asleep without Eric next to her. And the only part of her dreams that she would remember was standing at the edge of the chasm, the vertigo making it look like a yawning abyss. Claire could hear the voices through her dream, and the voices were all hers. The sky above was a roiling mess of clouds, streaks of lightning flashing violently across them. When she looked across the chasm, she saw nothing. Not an empty landscape, not an endless fog… just nothing. The air around her felt supercharged with electricity, and she feared that one of those lightning strikes would quickly find her. There was a rising panic in her heart, and she could hear it in her ears. Everything was closing in on her, and she began to cringe. The pulsating hum, only a nuisance in her waking state, began to get louder and louder, sounding a lot like a diesel engine.

Claire quickly opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the windows. It was Saturday morning, and out on Main Street she heard the loud rumbles of diesel engines passing by. The parade of vehicles lasted a few minutes and was soon replaced by human voices. She could hear the barking of commands and the replies of “Yes, sir!” and “All clear!”

“Damn it!” she called out quietly. They were verifying all of the houses clear of people.

Claire rolled over onto her side to give her line-of-sight to the top of the stairs and pulled her pistol out from under her pillow. Every ounce of her screamed to go hide in the closet, but the opening of the front door froze her in place.

“Hello!” yelled a voice up the stairs. “Is anybody here? This is the US Army!”

A moment of quiet and then she heard two men make their way up to the second floor. She watched as one went into the kitchen and the other to the living room.

The man that had spoken at the door spoke again, “Corporal, in here.”

The man from the kitchen made his way to the other. “What do you got, Sarge?”

Claire strained her ears to hear what was being said, but she could make nothing of their hushed tone. She closed her eyes and prayed, though she had the sinking feeling that she wouldn’t get out of this predicament.

“We know you’re in here!” bellowed the sergeant down the hallway. “We have the hallway covered. Just call out where you are and throw down any weapon you have. We’re not here to harm you.”

The sergeant’s voice was matter-of-fact and trusting. Yet, it still took several agonizing moments of self-convincing to follow his orders. Ahh… shit!

“I’m here,” she replied. “In the bedroom. I’m throwing my pistol out into the hallway, don’t shoot!”

Claire reluctantly tossed her Sig Sauer into the hallway and slowly got out of the bed. Putting her empty hands in sight of the soldiers first, she calmly walked out of the bedroom.

The sergeant also stepped out into the hallway, opposite Claire, and nodded to her. Holstering his own pistol, the man waved his arm towards her and said, “Kick the weapon to me, please.” She did as she was told, and he beckoned her forward.

The corporal stood then, too, but kept his rifle trained on her as the sergeant picked up her gun. “Go sit on the couch, ma’am. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

Her eyes widened at the thought of being questioned, but what are my other options? Once she was seated, the corporal lowered his rifle and the sergeant took a spot in front of her, arms crossed in a show of command. Sergeant Cooper was an imposing fellow, standing at least six feet, two inches, his dark brown skin glistening with sweat beneath his Army cap. He was barrel-chested, a clear indication that he was extremely fit and strong, and his eyes had that long-serving veteran penetrating ability. She quickly wondered how successful the man would be as an enhanced interrogationist.

“Looks like it was quite the gunfight in here.” The sergeant looked around at the bullet holes and the huge hole in the wall at the top of the stairs.

“Yup, it was. But they left us alone when they realized we weren’t easily overtaken.”

The sergeant gave her an ignominious stare.

“Who is Captain Eric Wells?”

Straight for the jugular… “Eric is my fiancé,” she replied, her voice as even as Cooper’s.

“Was your fiancé. We found him wrapped in your comforter in the basement. Captain Eric Wells doesn’t exist. Yet, you have his military issue pack in the corner.” He nodded towards Other Eric’s pack by the far window.

Claire took a deep breath and squinted her eyes at the pack. This whole reality-jumping thing certainly had its issues. She was at a total loss to explain it to the good sergeant, so she kept silent.

“And what is this?” The sergeant bends over, his expression quizzical. He picks up the empty MRE wrapper from the coffee table and holds it in front of himself. “’Restored Republic Property’? Since when did the conspiracy idiots get their hands on an MRE factory? And where did you get this?”

Claire sighs loudly, trying her best to seem exasperated. It had no effect… How can I have no effect on these people? She rolled her eyes and answered, “I have no idea what the ‘Restored Republic’ is. And if I told you where I got it, and the pack, you’d never believe me.”

Sergeant Cooper smiled through his skepticism and turned towards his corporal. They smiled at each other and he turned back to her. “Try me, Ms…?”

“Hutchins… Claire Hutchins. And you’re not gonna believe me, anyway, so why waste your time and mine?” She shrugged her shoulders as she spoke.

“Look, Ms Hutchins, if you’re involved with the attack that happened here last week, you better tell us now. You seem like a nice enough person, I’m sure that the tribunal will be lenient.”

“Tribunal?!” Claire’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re sending me to trial? On what charge?!”

“Ma’am, just answer my question, please.”

“Fuck you!” The anger built inside her, and so did the pulsing vibrations. Once again, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply, trying to get the vibrations under control. I’m home… don’t ruin it! “I’m on your side, buddy! So was Eric! Just go and leave me alone!”

Sergeant Cooper stood unwavering, “Answer the question.” Claire saw that look again, the look of the enhanced interrogator.

She sat up straight and put her hands flat on the coffee table. “Fine… The pack and the MREs are from a different reality.”

Cooper lowered his head and raised his eyebrows. He said, through an indignant smile, “You serious?” He laugh-coughed for a couple of moments, then asked, “Do you really believe that? Do you have any proof?”

“Corporal…” she leaned slightly to look at him. “Langenbach? Go into the bathroom and look in the hamper.” She nodded at the bathroom door when the corporal didn’t move right away.

He glanced at the sergeant for permission, which he got with a nod. He turned and stepped into the bathroom, halting and glancing around.

“Behind the door, genius,” said Claire snidely.

Corporal Langenbach found the hamper and pulled it out into the living room. He looked questioningly at Cooper. “What are we supposed to find in here?”

“Pull out the coveralls and tell me what you notice.” Claire had now sat back again, the vibrations subdued and a relative calm returning.

The corporal lifted the coveralls and began to speak about what he saw. “Upper Perk Police… Officer Fitch… and a rank insignia on the collar. So what?”

“Take them with you when you take me to the jail. I assume you’re gonna take me there before shipping me off to trial, right?”

“Why would we take them along?” asked Cooper.

“You see how the the ‘T’ is partially missing? And the paint stain on the right arm?”

“Your point?”

“When we get to the station, you’ll find another set just like it. Same missing part of the ‘T’ and same paint stain… same shape, same color.”

“Sure,” he said through a sneer. “We’ll play along. Is that it?”

She pointed at the basket, “Pull out the sweater there.”

The corporal bent and held it up. “Oh, Jesus!” he said and turned his head away. He turned it around in his hands to give the sergeant a look.

Claire watched his jaw clench in disgust as he stared at the thick spray of dried blood and pieces of brain and skull stuck to it. Turning his eyes back to her, he asked sternly, “Do you have an explanation for this?”

“Yeah… Take a sample of it and run the DNA, and I’ll provide you with a sample from me. You’ll see that all of that is… me.” She sat up and craned her neck to them to add emphasis to her words, “Alternate realities exist, guys. That will prove it to you. I know you think I’m crazy, and that’s fine. But crazy doesn’t refute the evidence.”

She stood and turned around, hands behind her back. Sergeant Cooper walked around the coffee table and spun her back around. Bowing her head slightly in gratitude, Claire brought her hands back around to the front. Corporal Langenbach took the sweater, coveralls, and the MRE wrapper and stuffed them into Other Eric’s pack and all three left the apartment.

* * *

The rest of her day was spent in the Upper Perk jail. Her mind reeled at the idea that she was here just a few days ago, but it wasn’t here. While the borough building was mostly intact, flashes of the bomb going off, and the conference room collapsing as result, raced through her mind. Police Chief Adam Joseph was still alive here, and he seemed to be unperturbed at having federal troops traipsing around his building. And even though Claire had been escorted in in hand cuffs, he still managed to find a smile of recognition when he saw her and made sure that she was at least somewhat comfortable in her plight.

She watched in hope as Other Eric’s pack was handed over to Army Intelligence. In her mind, she replayed the events of that night, by the campfire, and that last view of Eric crumpling to the ground. Only a couple of hours before that, in another reality, she relived the moments when she saw fire melt his body. Then back even further, to the beginning of all of this madness, when she watched him get shot. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Thankful that she was left alone, she bawled loudly and endlessly. The breaths came to her difficult at times, and her sides began to hurt as the sobs wracked her. And after all that, her thoughts went to her family, and to Eric’s. In all that had happened, she had completely forgotten about them.

Claire’s family lived not too far away, up Allentown way. In fact, she was only a couple miles away from her parents and her brother when she went to Macungie to find Eric. If she ever got out of here, she promised to herself that she would go there first. Her sister and brother-in-law lived further north, above Allentown, which eased her heart. Hopefully, they escaped having to deal with this madness completely.

Eric’s family was a different story. The only parent he had left was his stepmother, and she lived with his little sister in Quakertown. From all that she had overheard from the cell, it sounded like the militia that came through never made it that far. His older sister, though, lived upstate, in heavy red territory. She hoped to be able to find her… to find all of them. They deserved to know Eric’s fate and begin their grieving.

The keys jingling in the cell lock startled her awake. Claire had no idea that she had fallen asleep, but her stiff neck let her know that she had been that way for some time. As she focused her eyesight, she looked towards the cell door and saw Chief Joseph.

“Hi, Claire,” he said in a kind voice. They never knew each other personally, but she wasn’t surprised that she knew her name. “I thought you may prefer this to sleep on.”

He opened the door and placed a sleeping bag and a pillow on the floor. She waited until the he had closed and locked the cell before standing up and retrieving the gift. “Thank you, Chief,” she said with as much gratitude as she could. “You’re a good man.”

As he let go of the door, his expression became solemn and serious. “I’m sorry about what happened to Eric. I knew him most of my life, even if we were never very close. He was a good man.”

She smiled at him through instant tears. The lump in her throat nearly prevented her from speaking. “Thank you. I will miss him so much.”

He turned away and walked quietly out of the jail room. Claire bowed her head and bit her lip, her heart hurting. You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone, my love. Yet you have, three times… She busied herself with spreading out the sleeping bag to keep herself under control. How many tears was a person capable of crying?

Again, she fell asleep without realizing it, but her unconscious was not surprised when it found itself standing at the edge of the chasm. The ethereal mist at the bottom of the abyss lit up her face like the reflected light off the surface of water. She felt its pull, compelling her to fill it. The clouds above continued to roil and undulate, their gray color changing hue in the blink of an eye. The nothingness across the chasm hadn’t changed, it was still… nothing. But now, she saw a something other than its monochrome nothingness. She could swear that there were two spots of coloration, just wisps of shadow. Her dream self squinted, trying to see shape within the shadows, to discern what those shadows were.

Hello! She called out to the shadows, hoping for a response. Hello! Who’s out there?

Claire’s heart began to race, the vibrations began to pulsate in earnest, radiating from her core. She couldn’t tell if it was a response from the shadows, if it was her own fear and confusion, or if it was something else entirely. The light from the chasm began to pulsate with the vibrations, and it made it difficult for her to focus. A feeling of panic washed over her, then the world went white…

She awoke to acute, penetrating pain emanating from her cheek. Her ears rang and her head swam… She had been hit in the face, and the pain was excruciating. She brought her arms up in front of her face as a reflex action and opened her eyes. Hearing restored to the waking world, she heard a woman’s voice.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch! It’s all your fault! He’s gone because of you!” The voice was stressed, angry, and out of control. It was also familiar. The woman continued to kick Claire as she rolled away from the attack.

As Claire pulled herself to her feet, using the cell’s bench for leverage, the kicks turned into a flurry of punches. Her ears continued ringing, and she could already feel her cheek swelling from the cheap shot. Finally, she was on her feet, and her panic and her need to flee turned to white hot anger. Who could possibly be this angry at her? At the moment, it mattered very little to her. It was time to fight back. She planted her left foot slightly behind her and stiffened, ready to strike.

Claire felt a blow on her left shoulder, then she spun on her heels, using her left arm to block the incoming right. Her right fist was like a bolt of lightning, catching the woman in the solar plexus. Before Claire let the force of the blow push the woman away from her, she wrapped her left arm around the woman’s right arm and connected a haymaker to her chin. The woman collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Hey! Hello! Can I get some assistance, please?!” Claire yelled out to anybody.

The door opened and Chief Joseph walked in, Sergeant Cooper hot on his heels. They both stopped short and stared in confusion at the scene within the cell.

“What the hell happened?” asked Cooper.

“What do you think, shit for brains? She attacked me while I was sleeping!” Claire could hear her speech was a little off because of the swelling.

“Shit,” said the chief as he went quickly for the cell keys.

Stepping to the back of the cell, she watched as the two men came in and began dragging her out of the cell. It was Becky Friedman. Claire’s stomach began to churn. Becky was no saint… far from it. She was a manipulative con-artist, and Claire was more than happy to give John to her. But that wasn’t good enough for Becky. No… She had to stalk Eric’s social media. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum just had to know what was going on in their lives, and it pissed Claire off to no end. They also had two ungrateful, lying-ass children, each from a prior relationship. The narcissism and self-victimization were taught well in their household. No wonder Becky was angry, she hadn’t seen her husband in a week. But why blame me?

As the men dragged her limp body from the cell, Chief Joseph looked up at Claire with a tiny smile. “She heard about your ball-grabbing episode last week. The whole Valley has, to be honest. She thinks you’re to blame for John’s disappearance.”

Claire feigned surprise. While she was responsible, sort of, for his anger and shame, John himself was responsible for his own actions. his need for revenge drove him to his own demise, and it certainly wasn’t Claire’s fault. She didn’t kill him… Red eyes did. The chief cuffed after they laid her face down on the cement.

“Come on out of there, Claire,” ordered Sergeant Cooper. “We need to talk.”

“Go ahead,” said the chief. “I can handle it from here.” And he started dragging her back into the cell.

Claire followed the sergeant to the conference room, the memory of it collapsing once again flashing in her mind’s eye. She sat down when he beckoned, then shut and locked the door, and drew the window shades down fully. When he turned to her, his expression was one of concern and wonder.

“You are being released on your own cognizance. Your story checked out… completely.” He stared down at the ground and shook his head. “I don’t know how it’s possible… It’s not possible. But it’s true.” He paused again and looked at her square. “Army intelligence has classified your story, and the proof, as Top Secret. You are not to speak of it to anybody. Science is gonna shit a brick…”

As best she could, Claire smiled. Her cheek hurt intensely, and the smile made it just a little worse. “I told you so.” She laughed and winked at the sergeant.

Cooper chuckled along with her and helped her to her feet. “Stay out of trouble… If you plan on staying in this reality, that is.”

“How come you’re not gonna take me to Area 51 and chain me down and tear me apart for study?”

“How could we, Ms Hutchins? You get into a spot where you feel you’re in danger and you’ll just disappear on’em,” replied Cooper with haughty laugh. “C’mon, let’s get you an ice pack.”

* * *

“I can’t see you, Gabriel. But I know you’re there,” said Claire to the candlelit darkness of the living room.

Gabriel appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, his expression one of empathy.

“What are you doing here, Claire?”

“Trying to get back to normal. I have a lot of things to put right,” returning Gabriel’s empathy with indignance.

“You can’t stay, darling. There’s too much you have to do.”

“No, Gabriel!” and the anger switch flipped instantly. “I have to fix my life here! This is where I belong!”

“Claire…” his voice becoming immediately pleading. “Reality is falling apart. You are the only one that can fix it.”

“WHY?! Why me, Gabriel?! What is so goddamn critical that I need to fix?!” She could feel the anger boiling over into rage, the deaths of Eric now flashing again through her mind. “First, you tell me that I have to kill a John Friedman! Then, you tell me I have to kill my other self before she dies! I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I want answers!”

“You are a prime, Claire…”

“How many other primes are out there, Gabriel? Why me?! What makes me so special?” Her rage was now morphing into confused tears.

“Sit down, Claire. I’ll tell you,” he said, stepping down from the bathroom doorway and into the living room proper, his hands raised in a gesture of calm.

Claire sat down and resumed holding the ice pack to her face. The swelling had gone down considerably, but it wasn’t gone completely. Her fit of rage had given her a headache, and her mood soured even further. Gabriel sat himself on the coffee table, opposite of Claire.

“Five thousand years ago I was a 22-year-old baker, living in the Tower of Babel. And just as the story says, there came a day when all of the people began speaking in different tongues. Just like the story, the people became angry with each other. I was on my way out of the city because I had to go to Babylon for supplies. I had a funny feeling inside me, and when I left the city that feeling turned into vibrations. Then the tower fell, and not a soul was left alive.”

“Except you…” said Claire, sounding a bit bored.

“Sort of…” and he stood up and began to pace the room. “You see, I was the prime, and I was the only one of me to make it out of the tower. All of my others were trapped inside the tower in their realities. I was the only one to survive.”

Claire’s brow furrowed at this, an inkling of understanding trying to scratch its way into her brain.

“I had closed my eyes as the earth rumbled beneath me. And when I opened my eyes, I found myself standing before Him… God. He gave me the name Gabriel, as I was known before as Gusru. He made me an archangel,” and Claire could see that his eyes were seeing that far off day.

“Is that why you want me to kill my others? To become an angel?” She found herself standing now, though she was still behind the coffee table.

“Not quite…” and Gabriel glanced at her sheepishly. “Things don’t work the same anymore. But yes, there is an urgent need that you, and only you, kill your others. The realities are beginning to skew beyond the normal.”

“What does that mean?” and now it was her voice that was becoming pleading. “I don’t understand any of this. Why do you want me to kill a John? Is that preventing something?”

“Yes, Claire, it is. But I can’t…”

“Stop it, Gabriel!” She walked around the coffee table and came face to face with the angel. “You’re talking out of both sides of your mouth. You’re double-dealing me!”

He shook his head, exasperation taking a hold of him. “Claire, no… You’re not letting me finish.”

“Why should I let you finish?!” Her voice now loud enough to be heard on the street outside, Claire took her pointed finger and jabbed at Gabriel’s chest as she spoke. “You won’t tell me what I want to know. You’ll continue to cherry-pick what you want me to know, dangling the carrot in front of me!”

“Faith, Claire…”

She turned on her heels and interrupted again, “To hell with your faith, Gabriel! My faith is the same as it’s ever been, in God and the world He created! What I’ve seen… What you are… It means nothing to my faith! I’ve got you! I’ve got ‘Red Eyes’! I’ve got the Undertaker! I don’t want it anymore, Gabriel!”

He looked up from the floor to her facing him again, tears streaming down her face. “Undertaker?”

“Yeah… Another ‘red eyes’, he looked like the Undertaker.” She let her hands rise and fall in a show of defeat and frustration.

“Belphegor?” Gabriel’s expression became surprise. “What is Yehwah doing?”

“Yay-who?”

“Claire, you need to follow the pulsing inside you. You need to do as I direct. Everything depends on it.”

“But you won’t…” Claire crossed her arms, shaking her head while she paused. “No, Traveler… This satyr has had enough. I have a lot of things to do here. It’s time for you to go…”

“You can’t escape what’s coming, Claire. You can’t escape the chasm you see in your dreams. Success or failure, your life will never be the same… It will never be normal again.” Gabriel’s response was monotone, yet ominous.

She felt the power of his words, the truth of his words. It didn’t matter to her anymore. “Goodbye, Traveler.”

In the blink of an eye, she was alone in the apartment. Claire wiped the tears from her cheek and began a mental list of all she had to do.

Join Claire on her continuing journey in chapter 10 by using the link below:

The Mirror