Robert Browne: Kiss Her Goodbye

Donovan felt a faint crack as the room instantly melted away and darkness enveloped him.

A split second later, he was gone.

Chaos.

Wong had been right. That was the only way to describe it.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in familiar territory, hurtling like a rag doll through the eye of a hurricane, a whirling wormhole of light and sound, a jumble of voices murmuring incoherently in his head.

Only it was different this time.

This time there was pain. Pain so deep he thought he might scream.

It started in his chest and spread rapidly through his entire body, expanding his organs until they felt as if they were about to burst. And just when he was certain it couldn’t get any worse, the pain deepened, widened, devouring him whole.

He remembered a horror movie he’d once seen, Jennifer Jason Leigh tied between two trucks as their engines revved, threatening to rip her apart. He felt as helpless as poor Jennifer, his flesh stretching, bones cracking, his ever-expanding organs ready to explode.

And then it happened. Something gave inside and he screamed, a long, agonized wail that sounded almost foreign to him.

But he wasn’t the only one screaming.

Someone else was here with him. An appendage. A conjoined twin. Their interconnected bodies were ripped apart by some unseen force. Turning his head, he found Gunderson staring back at him like a mirror image, a look of pure agony on his face. His usually malevolent eyes were bright with fear.

Then, invisible hands grabbed Gunderson and yanked him into a fold of darkness — and it was over.

The pain gone.

His body whole again.

Hurtling though the wormhole.

Once again, there was a light at the far end. A bright, flickering bluish white light that beckoned to him, as inviting as a mother’s open arms. It was a promise of safety, security, warmth.

Love.

And he knew exactly who was beyond that light. Could feel them. The murmur of their voices floated past him. Through him.

We’ve you missed son

Join

Come us

Donovan felt himself relax, letting their voices carry him ever closer to the light. It shone from a doorway of some kind, framing the hazy silhouettes of his long-dead parents.

We you love Jack

Forever always and

I love you too, he wanted to cry, but something held him back. As much as he’d like to be with them, as much as he wanted to feel their embrace, he knew this wasn’t where he needed to go. Whatever bliss the light offered, whatever promise it held — it did not hold Gunderson — or Jessie.

And if he let himself pass into the world beyond that doorway, he knew instinctively that he would never come back. When the body on the table in Jimmy Wong’s exam room opened its eyes, it wouldn’t be Donovan behind them…

… but Gunderson.

Gunderson would win. He was sure of it.

And Jessie would be lost.

He tried to resist, but the light seemed to extend toward him, feathery tendrils reaching out like friendly alien visitors.

“No,” he murmured, working up whatever resistance he could muster-which wasn’t much.

The tendrils kept coming.

Join us son

“No!” Donovan shouted, trying desperately to twist away from the light. “It’s not time. Not now.”

The tendrils drew closer, the murmurs louder.

We love you

Jack

Try as he might, Donovan could not turn away. The tendrils pulsed and expanded, threatening to envelop him.

“Stop, goddammit! Let me go!”

But it was too late. The tendrils surrounded him now, slithering across his body, wrapping their blissful warmth around him, sinking into his flesh and filling him with a feeling of indescribable joy-a joy so intense he thought he might cry.

Should he give in? Should he let them take him?

It would be so easy.

Soooo easy.

And what harm would it do? He would be with people who loved him.

Forever and always.

— But what about Jessie?

Where would she be?

Resist, Jack. You have to resist.

“No!” he shouted, arms and legs flailing against the invasion, trying desperately to break away. “Let me go! Let me find Jessie!”

And at the mention of her name, the tendrils abruptly withdrew. A roar of wind filled his ears as something grabbed him from behind — and yanked him into darkness.

He didn’t know he’d lost consciousness. Couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened.

When he came to, he expected to see the same stark landscape he’d seen before. The turbulent sky, the crooked spine of mountains that etched the horizon, the crowd of people forming a ragged line along the narrow pathway.

But no. He’d brought a new set of baggage this time.

Familiar, but different.

Instead of the purgatorial landscape, he stood alone in the middle of-it took him a moment to realize this-of the abandoned train yard.

Gunderson’s train yard.

A full moon illuminated the dilapidated carcasses of a dozen or more freight cars. The remains of an old caboose, looking much like the one that had been obliterated when the land mine killed A.J., stood just to his right.

He knew exactly where he was. And something inside him, some sixth sense, told him he needed to find the passenger car. Gunderson’s hiding place.

Turning, he crossed toward a gap between two freight cars, trampling the high weeds that covered much of the ground. Trudging over a set of rusted train tracks, he navigated the gap and emerged on the other side.

More of the same greeted him. Unlike the real yard, this place seemed denser, more formidable. The cars cast long shadows in the moonlight-shadows that somehow seemed alive.

He felt eyes watching him. But not the eyes of the rodents or the feral cats he’d encountered before. This was something different.

Something… malignant.

Fear clutched him, but he shook it off and continued forward. More train cars blocked his path, but through a narrow gap between two of them, he saw the glow of light.

He squinted, trying to make out the source of it, and as he drew closer, clearing the gap, he realized what it was.

His destination. The passenger car.

It looked much the same as before, but there were no boards on the windows. Flickering fluorescent light spilled out into the night, reminding him, of all things, of an Edward Hopper diner. Much like the rest of the yard, it seemed alive, like a pulsing organ.

As he approached, he saw that the rows of seats inside were empty and still. No sign of Gunderson.

Not yet, at least.

He stopped a few yards away. Waited. Heard a distant howl of wind.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. At any moment, something not quite human would tap him on the shoulder, reach into his chest, and snatch his soul away.

And that would be it. Game lost.

As he stood there, struggling to suppress this fear, a faint but unmistakable sound rose above the howl of the wind. Someone crying.

Someone — Jessie?

Oh, Jesus.

It was coming from the passenger car.

Panic rising, he crossed to one of the windows and peered inside, seeing no sign of life. He worked his way along the side of the car, looking in window after window. Nothing.

The crying continued. Deep, terrified sobs.

Moving around to the train car’s door, he found it padlocked shut. He searched the ground, snatched up a good-sized rock, and hammered the lock over and over, until it finally broke open.

Throwing the door wide, he was assaulted by a blast of light so intense that he had to shut his eyes — and when he opened them again, it wasn’t the interior of the passenger car he saw, but the curved cement walls of the Chicago freight tunnels.