The Traveler

He held the passport in his hand. The stamps overlaid each other in a collage of ink and color showcasing his various travels.

"Business or pleasure?" asked the immigration agent with no emotion.

"Business," said the traveler in a natural tone.

The agent scanned through the passport quickly and added his stamp to the already existing montage.

"Welcome. Enjoy your stay."

The traveler flashed a wry smile before passing through the gates. He pulled out a small black book from his back pocket and flipped to a page that was earmarked. He read the name and description and then closed the book and returned it to his pocket.

He walked out of the station and onto the street. He had already visited this place many times before and the streets were familiar to him. He quickly flagged down a taxi and got in.

"Where to?" asked the driver.

"Corner of Virgil and Dante."

"Can only take you as far as Middletown St. Not authorized to go further."

The man in the back seat slipped a large bill to the drive and said, "You're authorized."

"Virgil and Dante," said the driver, taking the money and putting the car in drive.

They passed through the city and numerous apartment buildings. People milled around the streets and in and out of shops. As they drove past Middletown, the scenery quickly changed. Large buildings and clean streets became run down shacks and litter covered roads.

Arriving at their destination, the traveler exited the car and paid the driver who instantly sped off back in the direction of the city.

The traveler walked down the street until he stood before a house that barely stood on its own. The roof had gaping holes that were covered with cut pieces of plastic. The walls bled mildew and crusted paint.

He approached the door and knocked. The echo inside indicated that not much furniture occupied the empty space that was someone's living area. He heard footsteps coming to the door and then the latch turn.

The wooden door swung back and a young man stood there. His hair was disheveled and his clothes ragged. He had no shoes on and his teeth looked like they hadn't seen a toothbrush in ages.

He looked at the traveler, but didn't say anything.

Time passed with both of them staring at each other.

Finally, the young man turned and walked back inside. The traveler followed. There were two chairs in the open space besides a small table and a lamp. The young man indicated to the traveler that he could sit with a wave of his hand. He himself took the other chair.

Dust billowed from the faded fabric, but none of it seemed to settle on the traveler.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," said the young man.

"I come when I am called," replied the traveler.

"I would have preferred your visit a little earlier."

"I'm sure I would have found you in better circumstances."

"Yes. You would have. I only moved out here after I waited in the city for five years."

"Why didn't you wait longer?"

"Longer? And continue to go mad among all those hypocrites?"

"Hypocrites?"

"Yeah, you heard me. All of them talking about how they're going to be saved. I know. I used to be the same. But then I woke up and saw reality."

"And what is that?"

"That there is no salvation. There is no there. There is only here."

"You don't really believe that."

"Maybe you haven't looked around you. I think where I am speaks for my beliefs quite succinctly."

"Perhaps. Or it could be that you want others to think you believe in this."

"Yes. That must be it. I put myself through this hell just so I can convince others that I'm not a believer."

"Be careful what you call hell. You have no idea what that is."

"I don't? Ten years I've been here. Ten years! And nothing! No word, no visit, no indication of what was going to happen. Do you realize what that does to a man? What that does to his mind?"

The young man breathed heavily with his rage. The traveler gauged the man before him and then stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blank card and handed it over. The young man stood as well and took it. As soon as he did, it turned black.

The traveler turned and walked out of the house.

"Wait!" the young man called after him. "This can't be it!"

The traveler paid no attention to him. He quickly walked down the pathway to the street. The young man ran after him, but as soon as he reached the end of the property, he slammed into an invisible wall and fell backward. His eyes wide with fear he looked up at the traveler who stood on the broken sidewalk.

"It's too late," the traveler said. "Your soul has spoken."

The ground rumbled underneath the young man. He stood up with a wild look and tried to run through the invisible barrier again and again, each time getting more and more panicked. The ground shook so furiously that he could barely stand on his feet. Like a madman, he stumbled back toward the house. He reached the doorway and used it to hold himself up. He looked back at the traveler who stood in serene silence watching the ordeal before him.

The young man screamed when he saw the ground split open before him. Fire erupted out of the earth and soon a chasm was left before him. It continued to open until the house also began to creak and groan under its own weight. He knew now there was nothing to do. The house split and crumbled underneath him. The chasm opened fully and engulfed the entire house and the man inside.

Within a few minutes, the earth had filled itself in so that all that was left was barren dirt.

The traveler pulled out his black book and turned to the page. He checked off a small box next to the young man's name and then placed it back in his pocket.

"Welcome to hell," he said, and then walked back down the street toward the city.

New beginnings

It didn't matter. Jalyn had already taken everything from him that she needed.

She turned back to look at the man laying on the bed, the sheets barely covering his body. She had enjoyed him; she couldn't deny that. It always made the job easier when the man could please her that way.

The door to the hotel room closed softly, the click of the latch silently echoing in the hall. Within seconds of leaving the room, her cell phone rang.

"Yes?" Jalyn answered.

"It is finished?" came the voice from the phone.

"Of course."

"Did you make sure?"

"Don't you trust me? This isn't my first job, you know."

"We don't want any fowl ups."

"Don't worry. He'll be dead before you can end this call." And with that, she hung up the phone.

Her high heels dug into the stiff carpet of the hall, leaving a trail of indentations as she walked. She reached the elevator and pushed the down button. It's soft green glow seemed to stand out against the beige paint on the wall. The ding of the elevator announced the arrival of the car. She looked up to see the doors open and a man inside with a gun raised at the ready.

They stood there for a second, staring at each other. Finally, she spoke.

"Matt, are you going to shoot me?"

"Hadn't planned on it," replied Matt.

"Then can you lower the gun?"

"Not just yet. Head back to the room. I'll follow."

"Really? It's going to be like this, then?"

"That's how he wants it."

She sighed and turned back down the hall. Reaching the door, she took out the key card and opened the lock. Inside, the man still laid on the bed in the same position. Nothing had moved. Matt walked around Jalyn and felt the man's pulse. Satisfied that he didn't feel anything, he opened his cell phone and hit redial.

"He's dead," he said into the phone. "Yeah, I just checked ... Ok. Got it." He hung up the phone and put away his gun.

"See?" she said. "That wasn't necessary at all."

"I trust you," said Matt, with a coy grin.

"Sure you do," she replied, matching his sarcasm. "So, may I go now? I usually don't like to hang around after the job is done."

"Of course," he said, and they walked out the door.

Back at the elevator, Matt turned to Jalyn and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Matt," she sighed. "No offense, but I don't like to mix business and pleasure."

"Really?" he smirked. "Then what do you call that back there?"

The elevator door opened and Matt entered. He turned around to see Jalyn with her gun drawn. "That was pleasure," she said. "This is business." The silencer on the gun muffled the sound of the shot, making it seem like only a cough. Matt slumped to the floor, leaving a red stain down the elevator wall.

Jalyn rushed back to the room and pulled out a small vial. She poured it into the naked man's mouth. She sat back until he coughed and sputtered. She rolled him over onto his side to help him breathe.

"Thank God," she said. "It worked."

"Of course it did," the man said. "Did he buy it?"

"I sure hope so. The call was made, but he had sent Matt to verify the kill. I didn't expect that."

"And...?"

"He's on his way down in the elevator. I'd say we have only a minute before all hell breaks loose."

"Then I'd better get dressed."

He started to get up, but she grabbed his face and embraced it with a passionate kiss. He returned it and then pulled her away before saying, "It'll work. We'll make it."

She smiled at him and got together a small duffel bag of personals while he dressed. He reached out his hand to hers and led her to the door. Just before opening it he gave her one more kiss and asked, "Ready to make history?"

"I've been ready," she said, and they left the room, headed down the back stairs and into the dark cover of night.

Confession

The match hissed, coming to life and throwing the flame upward. The burning sulfur hung in the air like strong potpourri. She couldn't mistake the smell of it. Suddenly, she felt the warmth of the flame on her leg. She inhaled sharply, trying to hold in her cry of pain. She knew there would be a severe burn there, but it was nothing compared to what waited her.

"Yes, my child. That is what it will feel like all over if you don't confess," the man's voice said. "We know you for what you are, but you must give up your sins and confess to God to save your soul. If you do, we will spare you the torture and end your life quickly."

The blindfold seemed to smother the room in around her. She could have been in the grandest hall and she still would have felt like she was stuffed into a closet. "Either way, I die," she said simply.

"True, true. But one way you have the chance of obtaining forgiveness. The other will have you suffering for eternity."

She could smell the garlic on his breath. It mixed with the sweat in the air, causing her to almost vomit. "How do you know? I doubt you've been there to see."

"I believe, and it is my belief that saves me."

"What you call belief, I call superstition," she smirked.

Though she could not see it, she could feel his face go red as his rage boiled. "Heathen! You blaspheme what you do not understand! I will purge you of your unbelief." He brought the flame to her leg again and held it there. She let out a yelp of pain. The flesh reddened and bubbled under the extreme heat of the match. She tried to move her leg away, but strong cords held her bound to the chair. He removed the match and threw it on the ground. It hit the damp floor causing it to sizzle. Her head rocked forward onto her chest, the pain swelling in her leg.

"You only make this harder for yourself," he said. "Just confess, and this will all be over."

Her breaths came short and labored. "I can't confess if I've done nothing wrong," she finally said.

The back of his hand flew across her face, cutting her lip with his overly ornate ring. "Do not pretend that you are innocent. You know what you have done."

"What?" she asked through the tears. "What have I done?"

She could sense his crude smile. "If I told you, then it wouldn't be your confession. You must come forward with the truth on your own to receive the full pardon of our Lord."

"I ... I don't know," she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe I can refresh your memory." The sound of the knife being pulled out of its sheath caused her to flinch. She could feel the cool steel against her cheek. He guided the blade up to her ear and with a careful flick of the wrist cut off her lobe. Her scream filled him with a sense of pleasure. "You remember now? You remember how you did this to those innocent children in your lust for power?"

The blood from her ear flowed down her neck and onto her chest where it was soaked up by the tattered rags they had forced her to dress in.

"It wasn't me," she gasped out.

"Oh, no. Of course not. But having someone else do the dirty work doesn't make you any less guilty. Just tell me what you had them do and we can end your suffering."

Her mind was awhirl. She tried to think of what he wanted to hear. She knew of what he spoke. She had seen those children as well, their ears completely severed off their head in a demonstration of devotion. But she had tried to stop them, hadn't she?

Her mind flashed back to the dimly lit chapel. They stood with stoic faces watching the priest wield his knife and mumble a prayer. The blood that soaked the cloths held by the parents that had finished the ritual with their kids seemed to stand out in her memory. She remembered trying to scream, to stop it. But she had just stood by and watched.

"You were there," he said. "You were telling them what to do."

"No," she said, almost trying to convince herself. "I didn't ... I wasn't ..." She tried to see through her blindfold into her memory and grasp what really happened. She saw herself now standing before the priest. She looked down to her own son kneeling before her, waiting with bowed head and listening to the man in robes recite the prayer. The knife glinted in the sunlight that barely streamed through the stained glass windows. Stop him! she shouted to herself, but the memory played out. Before she could grasp fully what she was doing, she saw herself with the bloody rag in her hand. The gaunt image of her child looking at her with a tear-streaked face was ingrained in her memory.

"What have I done?" she sobbed.

"Yes," he said. "Confess your sin."

She didn't even hear him. Her mind was still playing out what she remembered. She wasn't sure if it was her son's face or the feeling that she had just betrayed him that sent her over the edge, but something in her snapped. She could see herself grab the knife from the priest and tackle him to the ground. The blade was swift and before anyone could react, his ear was lying in a pool of blood. A woman screamed and she turned to see others coming at her. She had stabbed one of them before they were able to get the knife from her.

Her memory faded as she felt the tears soak the blindfold. "I didn't stop him," she whispered.

"Do you confess?" asked the man.

"I confess ..." she started.

"Yes?"

"I confess to subjecting my child to torture and not trying to do anything," she finally said. She waited for the slap that she felt for sure was coming, but nothing happened.

Instead, he came close to her and whispered, "You can't stop us." He pulled off the blindfold and she gasped at the priest before her, a white bandage where his ear should be. "Guard!" he yelled. And then, more quietly to her he said, "Never go against the church."

The guard came in and the priest said, "Take this heathen away. She will pay for her sins since she refuses to confess them and let God take them for her." The guard untied her from the chair and roughly led her from the room.

"Our belief saves us," the priest said to her with a wicked smile.

The day was bright and the light hurt her eyes that had become accustomed to the dark. They pushed her forward, causing her to stumble. Rough hands forced her back on her feet and up on the platform. They tied her hands behind the post and placed the stacks of wood around her. The oil dripped from the soaked bundles.

They stood back allowing the guard with the torch to come forward. Without fanfare, he placed the flame on the wood. It instantly ingnited and soon the entire platform was ablaze. The heat beat upon her skin, slowly changing it from red to black. She screamed in pain and writhed in agony.

Then, in what seemed like a moment of sympathy from an unseen power, she could feel no more pain. She looked out through the flames and saw her son standing alone and crying. She wanted to run to him, to comfort him. But it was too late. And just before she gave in to the welcoming darkness, she saw the priest put his hand on her son's shoulder and smile.

There's another

He hadn't gone far before he knew that he was in over his head. The dark street seemed to hold innumerable unseen threats and dangers. As he walked, he looked down the way at the parked cars and the light reflecting off the polished hoods from a single street light. The mist seemed to create a yellow cone just beneath it. In the center stood a figure with a long black trench coat and a black fleece hood covering its head.

He stopped walking. He knew he was there for a meeting, but something caused him to pause. It was a feeling inside that something wasn't right. He looked on either side of the street to see if someone else was there, but in the dark it was hard to tell.

Just then, it all seemed to flash before him in quick succession. He saw himself meet with the figure in black, then someone else came out of a nearby house straight towards them. They ran in opposite directions, but there was another person hiding in a car that jumped out and caught the figure in black. He saw himself turn to see a flash of light and hear a muffled pop in the same instance. The figure in black slumped to the sidewalk as the one from the house grabbed him as he stood there watching. He seemed to see it like a movie as the one from the house raised a silver gun with a silencer attached to his head and said, "We warned you," as he pulled the trigger.

The vision snapped like a dream into reality as his consciousness was brought back to the present. The figure in black still stood beneath the light, waiting.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. He listened to the ringing as he watched the one he was to meet with answer.

"They've found us," he said.

"What? How?" came a female voice on the phone.

"I don't know. But it's not safe. Don't look around, but there's one in the house next to you and another in the car just up the street."

The figure beneath the light stole a glance out of the corner of her eye at the window of the house just in time to see a blind flutter back into its position.

"If I run, they'll take me," she said.

"It's too late. They've already noticed that something is up. Run away from the car and the house. Now!"

Just as he spoke and she turned to run toward him, the door to the house flew open as the man he had seen in his vision came running down the walkway with a gun in his hand. The car that held the other man spun around in the street and started speeding toward everyone else.

As she ran away from the men, he ran toward her, pulling a gun from his jacket.

"Duck!" he yelled. She dove to the ground as he fired at the man from the house. His shot hit the man's right arm, causing him to drop his gun. She immediately jumped up and looked back as the man from the house held his bleeding arm.

"Come on!" her friend called to her as he grabbed her hand. They ran down an alley between two houses just as the man in the car drove up, almost hitting them but instead plowing into a white picket fence. He jumped out of the car and looked to his partner who waved his arm as a signal to follow them.

The dew from the evening mist lay on the ground like a thin wet blanket that would splash up from puddles as they ran. In and out of alleyways and cars they evaded their pursuer who kept right on their heels. Their lungs burned for oxygen as they breathed harder and harder, but they couldn't stop. It had been ten years that they had lived in that hell-hole and they weren't about to go back without a fight.

Turning the corner around the edge of a wood fence, he saw a loose board which he quickly picked up. Stopping just beyond the corner he listened as the agent following them came closer. Just as he saw him make the turn he swung with all the strength he had left at the man's head. The agent quickly ducked backwards, causing him to slide forward feet first. Like a baseball player coming into second, he quickly popped up and turned back around only to find the loose board coming straight at his head again. This time the agent didn't react as quickly and the force of the wood on his skull caused him to black out as his body fell against the fence.

The man dropped the board and the pair quickly left the scene. Looking around them and not finding anyone else following, they slowed down to a regular walking speed.

They were winded and their muscles hurt from so much running.

"My name is Chris," said the man. "I assume you are Desiree from the phone?"

"Yes," she said. "How did they find us?"

"They must have traced the call. I thought we were on a secure line, but it looks like they have feelers into almost every network."

"Have you found any others?"

"Not yet. You are the first, but I know there are more. There has to be."

"How long has it been since you've escaped?"

"Six months. You?"

"Four. I was about to give up on finding anyone else when you called. How did you find me?"

"I noticed you walking to the market the other day. When you bought an apple, I followed you home to see if you actually ate it."

"Damn. I thought I was more careful, but I'm almost glad I wasn't. I've always wondered why they didn't eat the apples."

"It's the pectin. It's poisonous to them."

Desiree looked at the apartment buildings looming before them on the skyline as the day was starting to break. Lights started flickering on in different units as people began to rise.

"They try so hard to look and act like us. They even keep the same night and day patterns even though they don't sleep. Look at them turning on the lights like a normal human as if they just woke up. Damn tweeters."

She spat on the ground as she said the slang term for the aliens.

"Well, we'd better get off the streets before they start coming out," Chris said. "My place is over on 5th. If we hurry, we should be able to make it. Then we can talk and figure out our next move."

"I'm just glad to have found someone else like me," she sighed.

Even though he didn't know her that well, he put his arm around her and let her lean on him as they walked. As far as they knew, they were the only two humans left on the planet that weren't in work farms. And, like her, he was just as happy to have someone else to share the day with.

"I'll make up some apple cider and we can have a piece of apple pie," he said with a smile. She smiled back at his attempt to keep the moment light.

"Sounds good," she said as they hurried into the dawn.