The Median Read online

didn’t say how he died,” his mind swelled with possibilities and finally one slipped out. “You didn’t-?” his almost comment was met with quite possibly the sharpest gaze he’d ever experienced “No, no…Of course you didn’t,” he averted his eyes and spoke in tones of which he didn’t intend to be heard. “It’s just what with his condition…It would have been a release-”

  “Listen!” he pushed himself from the chair to a tall upright position, without even wavering. “Christopher was always my friend…He still is-” he breathed sombrely, “wherever he is,” he relaxed slightly and brisked past Michael towards the staircase with no particular urgency but with a step that was not to be stopped.

  Michael watched Richard move slowly up the stairs before turning away and whispering to himself. “These things happen.”

  But they don’t. Not like this. Something was wrong.

  I could have stopped it. I was the last to see him. I am his last true friend. A lot of good that did him, in the end I abandoned him just like everyone else, for all the good I did I might as well have killed him myself…It couldn’t have just been a coincidence, he knew something he wasn’t supposed to and now so did I. The more I thought about it the more I knew it was better to keep Michael in the dark. I still wasn’t sure how safe that would keep him though. Kids like that…They draw attention…

  Richard casually opened his bedroom door and let it drift gently shut as he passed through. The room was much like the rest of the house; rustic beyond its time and bookcases with assorted volumes on the afterlife. Across from the foot of his bed, though, was an oak desk with various scribbled scraps of paper dotted about and a single large, half burnt candle centred at the back of the desk in amongst small statuettes and precious looking rocks.

  He took a silver flick lighter from his inside pocket and lit the large candle before laying heavily down on the bed and flicking the lighter closed with a snap. Slowly his eyes drifted shut, compelled to close by the dark room, the only thing allowing him to cling onto the waking world being a small beam of dusty light which managed to find a gap between the still drawn curtains. In the murky darkness the air changed.

  “Hello Rich,” a voice sounded soothingly.

  Richard lifted his eyelids gently and looked towards the desk and the lit candle. It still burned but now darkly, giving off no light, only an electrical blue aurora backed by an eerie black, absent of movement and warmth. He fully opened his eyes and looked carefully around the, now grey and lifeless feeling, room. His eyes settled on a figure standing against that lone beam of sunlight and without even adjusting to the unusual brightness identified who he was looking at.

  “You called…How could I refuse?” came the voice again, the figure stepping closer to Richards’s bed and into a better light. He was now neat and tidy, with a sense of self unlike he’d had in such a long time. “I’m free now.”

  “So it was you…” he sat up and turned to sit on the side of the bed. “Chris, I can save you…Bring you back-”

  “No! I thought we had an agreement,” Chris looked Richard in the eye, “I’m too close to her now…I can’t leave.”

  “It could take years to find her.”

  “So be it. She’s more than worth it,” his voice filled with love and joy at the thought of becoming reunited with his wife. “It’s better for him as well. For the future…How is the boy, anyway? I take it you haven’t told him yet?”

  Richard shook his head with conviction. “No, he’s just not ready for it yet. Maybe when he’s like his old man,” he raised an eyebrow towards Chris, “Ay? Who else could pull me into the border world but you?”

  “Listen, Rich, I wouldn’t have done it if I had a choice but things are not precisely wonderful on this side. That name…It’s not even the half of it,” he breathed deeply. “I’ve brought you here to warn you. It’s far worse than I thought,” he suddenly became agitated and looked around as if someone was searching for him. “The night is coming, Rich, everlasting night, like nothing we’ve ever seen before-”

  He placed a hand firmly on Chris’s shoulder to steady him and spoke harshly. “Chris! Who was it? Who killed you?”

  “Not who-” he again looked deeply into Richards eyes, “what…I don’t know much but believe nothing. All I know is he is the tide…He brings the wave…”

  “Who? Who!?” Richard shook him as he began to look around, terror filling his eyes, “Millaian?”

  “How do you know that name?” he gazed amazed at Richard for a second before something snatched away his attention. “He is here,” Chris stood up and began to back into a corner, cowering from something he seemed to be seeing to come through the opposite wall. Suddenly the blue candle began dancing and the curtains twitched violently.

  Richard stood up and looked around the room. The papers on his desk blew up and started flying around the room as a deafening hiss filled his ears forcing him to cover them and fall to his knees. He looked up at Chris, backed up against the wall who was continually mouthing a single word; finally his words overpowered the din enough for Richard to briefly hear. “Lancer!” he knew this word; it was a name, one he knew well. Before his mind could comprehend what was taking place a burst of dust shot from the wall Chris was intently staring at. From it materialised a tall man who reached down towards Richards friend with a thin, almost bone like hand.

  “I am your master now!” it stated in a raspy, commanding voice. It was about to grasp Chris’s face when it suddenly turned towards Richard, a cloak of black dust sweeping behind it, who backed up against the bed as it began to approach. Its whole body was as thin as its hand, its face longer than any he had ever seen, eye sockets inset far into its skull, wrinkled, grey features set, seemingly, onto the bone it’s self. It began to speak again as it now reached for Richard. “I am the master of all!”

  As the hand fell towards him, he backed as far into the bed sheets as he could and, closing his eyes, screamed at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, all was again silent. He gradually opened his eyes, breathing shallow and quick, still in sheer terror from what had just occurred. Slowly calming, he heard heavy footsteps beating up the stairs and finally the door burst open with a clatter.

  “Rich! What happened?” asked Michael, moving around the room towards Richard. He was given a quick nod between the rapid breathing for his concern. “I just heard a thud and then you scream,” he helped Richard up onto the bed and sat down next to him. “Are you alright?”

  He breathed out slowly; regaining control of his respiration. His breathing finally slowed and he looked to the corner where Chris had been cowering. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s alright now, you’re safe,” Michael questioned the statement to himself knowing full well for Richard to be this disturbed that whatever awful thing had done this wouldn’t just go away. It occurred to him that it might not be just Richard that was in danger. “I’ll go and put the kettle on,” he stood up and began to walk towards the door but we stopped just short.

  “Michael…” he pushed himself to a standing position and wavered slightly before facing the door, “there are some things you should know,” he thought about telling him about everything, all the things he had tried to protect him from for so long, the truth about his past and the truth that would bring the darkness. After what he’d just been through he came close to doing so. He needs to know what’s going on at least, Richard thought; in the long run it might be safer for him. “I’m not even completely sure what though…I think we should find out together.”

  Michael had become accustomed to how cryptic Richard could be and had learnt that it would all become apparent in time so with that notion in mind he simply nodded firmly, saying nothing.

  “Get the car keys; we’re going to the library.”

  For all but the drone of the engine the car was silent. Richard was moved by his recent ordeals and it increasingly preyed on his mind that, with all that had been going on, Michael should know the truth about his farther. He didn’t know why
, all he knew was that something told him the time was close. He slid his hands around the wheel and gripped it tight, deep in thought and barely concentrating on the road.

  “What happened?” Michael had suddenly turned and was gazing at Richard timidly. “When you called out?”

  Richard blinked and gripped the wheel hard again. That face had been embossed on his mind. The skeletal, horrifying malice in flesh. The truth was that Michael knew what Richard was, he knew all about his work but he was never told the details. Kept safe for all these years from the true nature of what a Median was. What he was. Richard thought of telling him but with the memory of that spectre he closed his mind and quickly replied. “Nothing…I just had an uncooperative client, that’s all.”

  Michael was about to question but his tongue was held by some form of common sense he was otherwise unaware of.

  “We’re here,” Richard stated flatly, pulling into the car park of a large, three story building. As he got out he looked over the roof of the car and stared at Michael as if he were a brick wall. “Don’t concern yourself with this or it’ll concern its self with you.”

  Michael nodded slowly but with conviction and made his way into the library, unsure whether he had said something wrong or whether Richard’s