039

 

39.  A Grey Area

 

Naomi opened her eyes on the cold, metal operating table. The first thing she noticed was that she was in her underwear. Then, she saw a stitched-up line running across her abdomen.

 

Grayson Lee sat beside her, gently caressing her cheek. "I hope you enjoyed our evening last night. I took the liberty of making some last-minute modifications...to help you in your quest. How do you feel, Naomi? Are you prepared to start your journey?"

 

Naomi stared up at Grayson with perplexed eyes, but nodded softly. The past few weeks in the chamber down below had been eye-opening, but they had made her restless. She was more than proficient with her abilities now, and anxious to put them to use.

 

"Good," Grayson replied. "And you remember your directions?"

 

Naomi nodded again. As she looked around, she realized she was in Grayson's office. A bloodied tray lined with medical implements stood next to them. He’s helping you, a voice whispered to her. He’s making you stronger.

 

"Yes. You can trust me," Naomi said, moving closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his back, moving her head up to his. "But before I leave..."

 

Grayson's face faltered, but then he bent forward, locking his lips with hers. Naomi's mouth tasted sour. She repulsed him, and he only kissed her for five seconds before pulling back.

 

"You will get your true reward when you return." Grayson winked. "Once you’re ready, I’ll open the portal to Sagacia. Then, your journey will begin. Remember, Naomi: God is our shepherd."

 

Naomi took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once she had killed the demonic boy and returned, she and Grayson would be together.

 

"Yes, Grayson. I'll be back soon."

 

*

 

Frank raced through the yard behind the Valley Construction office, weaving left and right through the equipment as best he could with his middle-aged bones. It was just like that night in the desert, when every second felt like a decade.

 

Here I am, running again. When is it going to end?

 

Over the past few months, he’d gotten used to the constant terror, and as time went on, he became better and better at convincing himself that everything would be okay in the end – but now, it all come crashing down. Part of him wanted to simply turn around and wait, so that he could relax at last and slip away into whatever was waiting for him, but the faces of his wife and daughter resonated in his mind. He lived for them, worked for their well-being. Frank knew he had to keep this from reaching them. No matter how much he suffered, he had to protect them.

 

Frank's thoughts fell from his mind as he went propelling forward into a pile of boards. He hadn't felt anything, but his back ached, and he couldn’t bring himself to his feet.

 

"Caught ya." Cecilia smiled, standing in front of Frank's fallen body. "I had to calculate this one very carefully so that I didn't hit you too hard and crush you."

 

The words passed right over Frank's head. His mind was blank as he desperately forced his body to crawl away.

 

"Come on." Cecilia waved her hand, motioning for Frank to get up. "I'm taking you to Grayson now."

 

Sirens went off in Frank's mind, and he shakily picked himself up. The crushed throat of Patrick Sherman flashed in his subconscious as he rolled to the right, diving behind a pile of lumber. Wood spilled off the pile, knocking him back down.

 

"What are you doing?" Cecilia asked in a disappointed tone of voice. "Grayson said I can't kill you, you know, so be careful."

 

Frank got to his knees again and jumped forward into a steady run, diving behind a metal shelf of wood.

 

"Do you know how hard this is?" Cecilia asked plainly. "I could easily snap your body in half if I wanted to."

 

Frank heard the crunch of twisting metal, and looked up at the shelf. It was being crushed somehow, contorting, and finally Frank saw Cecilia float up behind it. She was standing in mid-air, defying all Earthly physics.

 

"No more running, okay?" She stared down at him with gentle eyes. "You can't win this. Not against us."

 

Frank put his hands up, pointing his head to the ground in defeat. "You're right. Just take me."

 

"That's much better." Cecilia sighed and floated to the ground.

 

As she landed, Frank shot out toward at her, charging forward like he was back on the high school football team. He tucked his head in, jutted his shoulders out, and prepared to make contact.

 

He never did. Eventually, he quit rushing and turned around. The entire alley between the metal shelf and the lumber pile was empty, save for the tiny shadow of Cecilia, who now floated higher above him.

 

Cecilia said nothing and moved down to the ground with a crushing momentum. The earth caved in beneath her, swallowing up lumber, metal, and construction equipment as dirt curved into an inverted dome.

 

"You can't escape the power of gravity," Cecilia's voice echoed, as Frank started running again.

 

He looked around frantically for something he could defend himself with. Behind him, piles of wood and metal were crushed one after another.

 

It was then that Frank hit a dead end: a high metal fence that closed in the supply yard. He ran forward and clenched his fist over the iron lock, cursing his lock.

 

Frank heard a smash that sounded unbelievably close and swerved around. Once again, Cecilia floated right above him. Her face had lost its airy, carefree smile, and she stared down now with a saturnine expression.

 

"I didn't want to hurt you this bad, but enough is enough," Cecilia said, raising her hand. "I'm starting to get a terrible headache."

 

Frank stood his ground. Cecilia's body flinched, and he could see the air ripple and crackle as her mysterious power neared him. He tried to time it right, and dove when he thought the gravitational wave was going to strike. As Frank hit the ground, he heard the iron gate fly off its hinges.

 

Frank scrambled up, dashed out through the gate and looked around. Mounds of gravel and dirt surrounded him, along with large construction vehicles. Frank ran to the left, focusing his eyes on a large yellow bulldozer painted with black hazard lines, tattooed with mud and dirt.

 

Frank reached the machine, wheezing. He felt sick, on the verge of puking. A burst of gravity crackled nearby as he lifted himself inside. Cecilia floated toward him with unamused eyes.

 

The key was still in the ignition, so Frank started up the engine and searched for the gearshift. As the dozer jerked forward with a roar, Frank found the claw controller and quickly raised it up.

 

Cecilia hadn't moved from her spot in the air. She seemed to be waiting patiently for him to situate himself and get ready, as if she felt sorry for him.

 

Frank moved the bulldozer forward, preparing to bring the claw down onto the body of his pursuer. His eyes were firm, and he hadn't lost all hope yet.

 

Frank shoved forward on the lever as much as he could as the claw came down. "Come on, dammit!"

 

The claw enveloped Cecilia, blocking her body from Frank's view. As far as he could tell, she was trapped within as the claw flew down to the dirt, and he imagined Cecilia body being smashed between the claw and the ground. Frantically, he raised it back up.

 

At first, the claw wouldn't move, and Frank worried that it had gotten lodged too deeply into the ground. He shoved up the lever as hard as he could, clenching his teeth, trying to find out what had happened to Cecilia, but it looked as if the machinery had melded with the dirt. Frank stared down in stupefaction, wondering what could possibly be holding it there.

 

Forget it. Frank scrambled out from his seat. I just need to get the hell out of here.

 

As he moved to the door, he felt a rumbling from beneath his feet. The bulldozer jerked forward, and he was flung against the windshield. Panicked, he turned back to stare at the claw. It was finally coming out from the dirt now, but not in the way that Frank had expected. Soon, it moved completely off the ground, floating a few inches above the hole it had made.

 

The bulldozer moved with the claw, connected to it by its thick, iron appendage. Frank was pressed against the windshield as the bulldozer's heavy treads floated up from the dirt. The claw rose higher, pulling the bulldozer up with it. Its gears and joints creaked in protest as it was stretched into an upright position. The appendage that held the claw was screaming, while the cords connecting it to the bulldozer began to snap. All the while, Frank stared downward, finally realizing what had happened.

 

Cecilia stood at the bottom of the hole, left hand raised and grasping a single spike of the bulldozer's claw. The woman's muscles flexed and bulged. Intense eyes glared up at Frank, and he felt like a boy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

Why is this happening? I went to school, I acted like a good person. I tried hard. I graduated from college and got a job...I thought I could live peacefully if I just worked hard.

 

The windshield that Frank lay on cracked. Now perpendicular to the ground, the bulldozer floated like a monolith in the wasteland.

 

No one ever told me about people who could float or pick up bulldozers with their bare hands. No one taught me how to deal with insane murderers who can somehow survive flaming car wrecks. I just wanted a normal life. I got this far on my own, and I thought I was doing good. So why now?! Why is my whole world shattering around me?!

 

The metal arm of the bulldozer burst, as did the windshield. Frank's body flew down, and then everything went black.

 

*

 

"Wakey-wakey, little Frankie."

 

Frank Arazia slipped back into the realm of consciousness, coughing and trying to move. His neck blazed with pain, and all his joints ached in unison as he stretched them on the floor.

 

The simple act of opening his eyes seemed to hurt. Frank was still dressed in the clothes he put on after he woke up that day, a morning that seemed to be a century away. He gazed across the maroon floor to the opposite wall of a bare room. Then, his heart jumped into his throat.

 

Sitting across the room in a plain folding chair was Grayson Lee.

 

"Surprise." Grayson grinned. "Have a nice rest?"

 

Frank looked around the room frantically. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, barely illuminating the chamber. The walls were chopped and beaten badly, as if someone had beaten every nook and cranny with a hammer. Grayson got up from his chair and walked slowly toward Frank, ponytail swishing obediently behind him.

 

"It's been a while," he said, stepping forward. "I was shocked when you stopped coming to the office...simply shocked. You're my best worker, after all."

 

Frank gave Grayson a tired glance. "Cut the crap, Grayson, and tell me what all this is about."

 

"Cut the crap?'" Grayson raised an eyebrow at Frank in mock surprise. "Do I detect an insolent tone coming from your mouth, Arazia?" He leaned closer. "Are you insinuating that I am not being completely and utterly truthful with you?"

 

Frank stared into Grayson's empty eyes, holding back his fear. "Well, are you going to kill me, or what?"

 

Grayson chuckled. "Kill you?! Whatever for?"

 

"I saw you kill Patrick," Frank replied. "And I broke into your files."

 

Grayson nodded. "Yes, you did. Now why did you do that in the first place, Arazia? It seems so...unlike you."

 

Frank couldn't hold himself back. "I saw what you did to Patrick. I heard the lies you told Edward about his son...and I know you’re trying to manipulate this company."

 

"Oh?" Grayson adjusted his glasses. "Well, that causes problems for me, doesn't it?"

 

Without another word, Frank leapt up and lunged for his boss, but he couldn’t even lay a finger on him. In a split-second, Grayson's hand was out, fastened tightly around his employee's neck.

 

Grayson shook his head. "I won't kill you, Frank. Like I said before, I would never do such a thing."

 

"Then what am I here for?" Frank croaked.

 

Grayson snaked an arm behind his back, procuring a long, studded leather whip. "We're going to have fun together, Arazia. Like I said, I won't kill you, as you probably don't want to die. Right now, that is." Grayson smiled. "In the next few hours, your opinion will change on many things...including what you think you know about me."

 

Frank stared at Grayson in horror as he cracked the whip across the floor.

 

"Any more words of wisdom to impart upon me, Arazia?" Grayson asked, the tempo of his voice rising excitedly. "Any other entertaining threats to make?"

 

Frank opened his mouth, but all that came out was a hoarse wheeze. He scrambled back against the wall, desperately searching for a way out.

 

"That's what I thought, Arazia," Grayson said, bringing his whip down hard. Frank cried out in pain as the chained whip lashed his body, ripping pieces of his flesh as it went along its course. Blood splattered onto Grayson's glasses, and he wiped them on his suit jacket before continuing.

 

"Look at yourself, Arazia," he mused. "You're just a worn-down old man. What did you ever think you could possibly accomplish?"

 

Frank ran, but the whip found him again, this time in the chest. He shrieked.

 

"I agree!" Grayson laughed in a high, screeching tone. "You make an outstanding point, Arazia."

 

As Frank collapsed, the whip came down again, slashing across his waist and part of his thigh. He clenched his teeth, trying to keep the tears and screams back, but he couldn't keep himself under control. The pain was unbearable.

 

"You thought you were being sneaky, didn't you?" Grayson snickered, whipping Frank again. "You thought you knew something I didn't, or that you could somehow outsmart me, didn't you, Arazia?" Grayson continued to laugh, throwing his head back in an abominable display of humor. "That’s why this is so fun...you're so weak, yet you try and pretend like you aren’t. How is it possible?"

 

Frank's body went limp.

 

"Don't fall asleep just yet, Arazia!" Grayson commanded, as the whip cracked off Frank's forehead with a sickening smack. "We still have so much to talk about! So many wonderful memories to make together!"

Next: Five Averyls