The Last Flame
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“I have to go,” said the man. “They’ll be here soon.” He was dressed in a long black coat, and he looked like an assassin or maybe even one of those mysterious men who had been seen around town lately with their strange guns that shot lightning bolts out of them.
I didn’t know what they were called—the ones you see on TV shows about superheroes doing battle against evil aliens from outer space. But whatever his name was, he wasn’t someone I wanted to meet up close and personal.
Not after all my dreams last night where I’d met him again. And not just because it would mean more bad news for me if we ever did cross paths. No, there’s something else too…something that makes this guy particularly dangerous.
In fact, I’m pretty sure he killed my mom when she went missing two years ago. That’s why no one will talk about her anymore except me and Dad. The police told us Mom ran away but never found any trace of her anywhere.
They thought she might’ve run off with another woman. Or at least go back home to New Jersey. So naturally, since everyone knew how much our family loved each other (except for me), they assumed she must still be alive somewhere waiting until things got better between us before coming back.
Of course, as time passed without a word from either side, people started talking behind their backs: Maybe your mother is dead? Did she leave you for some rich old man in Florida or California? What happened to her anyway?”
He turned toward the kitchen door and then stopped abruptly. His eyes widened and his mouth opened wide enough so I could almost hear his teeth chatter. Then he took a step backward into the darkness outside. As he moved farther away from me, I heard him whisper, “No! Don’t do it!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. It sounded like he was trying to warn me somehow. Like he thought I was going to kill myself. Which made sense considering everything that had already happened today. But I couldn’t imagine how killing myself would help anything.
After all, my dad has always promised me that someday he’ll find Mom and bring her home safely. Whatever happens next, whether I live or die, that promise remains unbroken. Besides, I don’t want to hurt anyone else by dying before my father does, especially not my little brother George.
If only he hadn’t gotten sick recently; if only he weren’t such a weakling now. Just look at him lying there in bed right beside me. All pale and sweating and hardly able to move. My heart goes out to him, and yet I can’t stop thinking about how sad it is that both of us may end up being orphans.
Because even though my parents say they love each other very much, they’re also terrified of losing each other forever. Even worse than death itself is the idea of living without each other. Especially when you have children.
So instead of following the man out onto the porch and seeing what kind of trouble he was getting himself into, I decided to try calling 911 again. This time, however, I held down the red button longer. When nothing happened, I pressed it again. Still nothing.
I tried pressing it several times over the span of five minutes while staring straight ahead at the phone receiver, willing it to ring. Nothing happened. Finally, I gave up and let go of the red button. Then I picked up the cordless handset and dialed 9-1-1 using my finger. A few seconds later, a recorded voice came on saying, “Please stay calm and listen carefully…”
Then I hung up. Why should I wait patiently for help when none seemed forthcoming? Instead, I grabbed my cell phone from its charger on the desk and hit speed dial number three. There was no point in wasting time waiting for a call back from the operator.
She wouldn’t get here anytime soon anyway. Besides, I needed to think. To figure out what exactly I was supposed to do next. Wasn’t this whole thing crazy? How could I possibly take care of George, keep the house clean, attend school, and manage to eat lunch every day?
In addition, I had to make sure George stayed healthy so he could recover fully. At least until my dad returned home safely. Once he arrived, he’d be able to handle most of the household chores. Meanwhile, I’d have plenty of free time during which I could study hard and pass my classes.
With any luck, I’d eventually earn enough money working part-time to pay for college tuition. And once I graduated, I planned to become a lawyer. One way or another, I intended to make sure justice prevailed. No matter who stood in my path.
As long as I kept moving forward, everything would work out fine. Everything would turn out okay.
***
When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the ceiling fan spinning overhead. Next, I noticed the plastic trash bag hanging from the light fixture above the sink. Then I looked around the room. For the past hour or so, I’d been sleeping peacefully in the middle of an empty floor.
By the looks of things, I guess whoever lived here had taken their stuff along with them. The bedroom’s walls were bare except for some old posters tacked up haphazardly against one wall. They depicted various movie characters dressed in costumes from popular movies like Star Wars and Indiana Jones.
On top of the dresser, I spotted a small stack of comic books. Each issue featured colorful illustrations of superheroes fighting villains wearing outlandish outfits. Some of the images showed superpowered heroes rescuing people trapped inside burning buildings.
Others portrayed ordinary citizens battling giant monsters while standing atop skyscrapers. Although these comics didn’t seem particularly well done, I still found them fascinating. So much so that I spent quite a bit of time studying each page closely.
After reading through all twenty issues, I put them aside and went looking for something more interesting. That’s when I discovered two boxes stacked neatly side by side on the far corner of the closet shelf. Both crates appeared to contain items belonging to someone named John Smith.
Inside the smaller box, I located a pair of sunglasses and a black leather wallet containing ten bills. These must’ve belonged to the guy who left last night after breaking into our house. While searching the larger crate, I opened a white envelope addressed to Mr. Joseph Darrow.
It contained four hundred dollars in cash. Whoever owned this place obviously worked for the government. Or maybe they were a secret agent. Either way, I figured finding this cache of hidden treasure might come in handy.
While rummaging through the contents of the smaller container, I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. Startled, I turned around just in time to see the intruder walk into view. He wore a navy blue suit jacket, matching pants, and shiny brown shoes. His hair was short and graying at the temples.
In his right hand, he carried a silver briefcase. As he approached, I realized we shared the same name: Joe. Not only did I share the same surname but also the exact spelling of it. Yet unlike him, I hadn’t ever seen anyone else with my last initial before. Maybe there weren’t many other Joes in town. After all, I wasn’t certain how common it was.
“Hello,” said the stranger. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
He spoke with a deep voice that sounded almost familiar. But I couldn’t recall where I’d heard it before. Perhaps somewhere down the line, I’d met someone similar to this man. Unfortunately, however, I’d never encountered such a person face-to-face. Nor had I talked to them over the telephone.
If anything, I’d probably exchanged pleasantries with them via text message. Which meant I couldn’t tell whether or not this particular individual resembled the others I knew.
Without thinking twice about it, I replied, “It’s okay. You didn’t frighten me.”
With a smile, he placed the case on the bed beside me and then sat down on the edge of the mattress. While doing so, he removed a few pages from the notebook lying open on his lap. A moment later, he began flipping through the sheets. Apparently satisfied with what he read, he set the papers aside.
Then without saying a word, he reached toward the center of his chest pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Unfolding one of them, he lit up. When he took a drag, smoke billowed forth. Soon afterward, he exhaled a cloud of gray vapor.
For several seconds, neither of us bothered speaking. Instead, we simply stared at each other. At length, however, I decided to break the silence.
“Are you lost?” I asked.
His response surprised me. “No, I live nearby.”
Before I could ask why he came here, he continued, “You’re Joe, aren’t you? We have the same name, remember?”
My jaw dropped. “How do you know that?”
“Your parents told me.”
Although I felt tempted to deny it, I couldn’t bring myself to lie. Besides, he already knew the truth. And besides, I doubted my mother would want me to pretend otherwise.
Instead, I nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
A faint frown creased his forehead. “What are you doing here, anyway? Your father shouldn’t be home until late tonight. Why don’t you go back upstairs and wait for him there?”
“Why should I leave now?” I countered. “Besides, I can’t sleep yet.”
As I watched, the corners of his lips curled upward. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I mean, you haven’t been able to rest since yesterday afternoon.”
The words stung. Wasn’t I entitled to stay up as long as necessary? Didn’t I deserve an opportunity to grieve properly for my dead sister? If I wanted to spend the remainder of the day sitting alone in a dark room, I certainly had every right to do so.
Even better, I wouldn’t hurt anybody by staying awake. On the contrary, I’d actually help everyone involved. By keeping vigil, I’d ensure no further harm came to those remaining alive. For example, I might prevent some idiot like Mr. Jones from committing another senseless act of violence.
Still, I couldn’t resist asking, “Then why did Dad send you instead of coming himself? Or is he still working overtime?”
Joe frowned again. “Dad sent me because he knows you need somebody to talk to. That’s why he wants you to come downstairs and meet with me.”
Just hearing the words made me feel uneasy. What exactly did they mean? Did he intend to offer comfort? To console me? How else could he possibly interpret his role in this situation?
After taking a quick puff off his cigarette, he blew the smoke away. Then he leaned forward and looked directly at me. His expression was serious—almost solemn. “Listen, Joe,” he said. “There’s something I’ve got to say. Something important. So listen closely.”
I nodded.
At last, he went on. “Yesterday, when your sister died . . .” He paused briefly, searching for the right words. “When she passed on, her soul left the body.”
I blinked rapidly. “Her spirit?”
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “And once it does, nobody will ever see her again. She’ll never return to life.”
“So that means—”
“She’s gone forever.”
Faced with these harsh facts, I found myself struggling to breathe. My mind spun wildly. Yet despite all this turmoil, I managed to remain silent. After a while, though, I finally forced my thoughts into order.
“But how can you be sure?” I asked. “Maybe she just fell asleep. Maybe she just needed more time to recover from the shock of being shot.”
“Would it really make any difference if she were sleeping?” he responded. “In either case, her soul has already departed. It won’t be returning anytime soon.”
He was telling the truth. All along, I realized that much. But even so, I remained unconvinced. I wasn’t ready to accept things as they stood. Not yet.
“If that’s true, then where is she now?” I demanded. “Where did she go after leaving the hospital?”
Again, Joe hesitated before replying. “We believe she returned to the place from which souls originally emerge: The Other Side.”
“The afterlife?” I echoed incredulously. “Is that what happened?”
“It seems likely,” he replied. “Especially given everything else you saw earlier today.”
“Like what?”
“Well, let’s start with the fact that the police officer who killed your sister also committed suicide.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Apparently, he didn’t take the news well.”
I shook my head. “Does that mean he’s not going to face punishment for killing someone?”
Joe shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? Either way, we’re talking about two people whose spirits have both moved on. They can’t be punished anymore.”
This seemed strange to me. In general, I understood that the living could punish the dead. Their actions often determined whether or not their victims received justice. Still, I couldn’t understand why anyone would bother punishing the deceased themselves.
“Okay, but what about my sister?” I pressed. “Did she die without getting justice?”
Once again, Joe appeared reluctant to answer. At length, however, he spoke. “No, unfortunately. Her killer isn’t dead yet.”
My eyes widened. “Wait a minute! You mean he’s still alive?”
“Not quite. Unfortunately, he lost consciousness shortly after shooting your sister. And he hasn’t regained full awareness since then.”
“How long ago was that?” I wondered aloud. “Was it only a few minutes? A half hour maybe?”
Joe stared straight ahead. “Actually, it’s been over twelve hours now.”
I felt sick. Twelve whole hours? Had that much time truly passed?
“Has he shown any signs of waking up?” I inquired.
“Unfortunately, no,” Joe told me. “His condition remains unchanged.”
For several moments, neither one of us said anything. We sat there quietly smoking our cigarettes, staring out at the city below. Finally, though, I decided to ask him a question that had been bothering me ever since we arrived here.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked bluntly. “What do you get out of this?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “Absolutely nothing.”
I laughed bitterly. “You don’t sound very convincing.”
“Believe me,” he insisted. “I’m as surprised by this turn of events as anybody. Believe it or not, I actually came down here hoping to find some answers. Instead, I ended up finding another mystery.”
“Another mystery?” I repeated skeptically. “Are you saying you weren’t involved in what happened back home?”
He sighed heavily. “Let’s just say that I knew enough to realize that it wouldn’t end well. That’s why I made plans to leave town immediately.”
“Leaving town?” I exclaimed. “But you live here!”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Still, I figured it’d be best if I took care of business somewhere else. Besides, I wanted to avoid any unnecessary complications. So when I heard about the accident, I left.”
“Which brings us to the present moment,” I concluded. “Now that you’ve seen for yourself what happens to those who cross paths with me, I guess you must feel pretty bad about coming here in the first place.”
“Oh yeah,” he agreed. “Trust me, I wish I hadn’t come. But like I said, I thought I might learn something useful.”
“Then why haven’t you run away?” I wondered. “Couldn’t you have escaped through the front door instead of sticking around and watching all this happen?”
“That’s easy,” he answered. “Because I realized that running would accomplish absolutely nothing. No matter where I went, I’d eventually wind up right back here anyway.”
I gazed across the room at him. “So what exactly are you trying to tell me?”
“Honestly, I don’t think you’ll ever fully understand,” he explained. “All I want is for you to trust me—to give me the benefit of the doubt. After all, I may look young, but I’m far more experienced than you probably realize. Trust me, I can handle myself better than most.”
I studied his face. He looked so sincere, almost too earnest. As always, I found it hard to accept such an obvious lie. Then again, perhaps I should consider the possibility that he wasn’t lying at all. Maybe he really was telling the truth.
After a brief pause, I finally nodded slowly. “Fine,” I conceded. “If you insist, I will believe you. For now, at least.”
Joe smiled. “Good,” he declared. “From now on, please try to see things from my perspective. If possible, keep your guard up at all times. There’s no guarantee that I won’t be able to sense danger before you do.”
“Alright,” I acknowledged. “I promise to do everything within my power to protect myself.”
Joe exhaled deeply, then stood up unsteadily. “Well, I need to go check on your brother now,” he announced. “Try to stay alert while I’m gone.”
“Sure thing,” I assured him.
As soon as he turned toward the doorway, I noticed how pale he suddenly looked. His complexion reminded me of the color of fresh snow. It was almost unnerving to watch, especially considering the fact that he used to appear perfectly healthy just seconds earlier.
“Hey,” I called out to him. “Do you feel okay?”
He paused in mid-stride. “Yes, fine,” he muttered. “Just tired, that’s all.”
“Okay,” I responded uncertainly. “See you later.”
Once he disappeared into the hallway beyond, I got up off the couch and wandered aimlessly around the living room. At last, I reached the window overlooking the street outside. From this vantage point, I could still make out Joe standing beside the entranceway.
Apparently, he intended to remain there until Mr. Collins woke up. Of course, I couldn’t help wondering why he didn’t simply use the front door instead. Was he afraid someone might notice? Or maybe he genuinely preferred to stand here, where he felt safe. Either way, I supposed it hardly mattered.
The important thing was that he appeared to be doing a good job taking care of my brother.
The End