The Aftermath

It wasn’t always that way between Allison and her father. On rare occasions, I could get her to talk about him. The rest I pieced together from her friends and stories that floated around town. Allison’s mother vanished four years ago. Her disappearance was never solved. Allison never said she blamed her father, but the coldness of their relationship told the truth of her denial. Reverend Channing was not a popular preacher until he gained publicity from the investigation. Nobody walked down his street on Sunday mornings. Even the doomsday followers avoided him. His flock was all but one, himself. Standing on his soapbox each Sunday shouting to no one, until his wife turned up missing. Publicly, the Reverend showed tremendous strength and perseverance in the face of tragedy. People fed off it, ate it up like hungry dogs. If you ask me it was a sham. Reverend Channing has a flare for dramatics, often stirring passions in order to fuel personal agendas. I think he staged his wife's disappearance to drum up business, or even worse.

Rumor has it that he fell in with the Outsiders and dabbled in the occult; only his version wasn’t the innocent tourist kind where you ride around on trolly cars shooting video and sipping craft beer. He was in deep. Blood sacrifice, murder, evil. Some people claimed the Reverend used black magic to increase his prosperity, essentially selling his soul for worldly values. That version was too far-fetched for me to believe. Reverend Channing was a crazed nut, but he was adamant about his work. He wouldn't sell out for a chance to dance with the devil.

Once, Allison let her guard down and talked briefly about it. She claimed to have never told another soul. Allison said she overheard her parent’s arguing. She was half asleep and unable to make out what they were saying. She got up and pressed her ear against the air vent on her bedroom floor. Her father became increasingly upset, using profanity towards her mother, something a Puritan never did. Her mother tried to calm and reassure her husband that “it was ok” but the message wasn’t getting through. Allison heard a slap and a thud. Fearing for her mother’s safety she ran downstairs. To her surprise there were two men whom she had never seen before standing in the living room. Allison's mother held her hand to her face and quickly wiped a tear. “Go to your room!” Her father shouted. Frightened by the strangers, and her father’s tone, she ran upstairs before getting a good look at the men. She didn’t sleep that night.

The next day her mother acted as if nothing happened. She didn’t dare speak to her father and did her best to ignore it. About a month later her mother went missing. Allison swore to me that she saw an odd-looking van parked across the street the night her mother disappeared. What was even odder is that the Channing’s lived outside of town. The nearest house was over four miles away. Reverend Channing was at a meeting and Allison had met friends for a study group before coming home to blood stains on the door handle and a missing mother.

She never said it aloud, but I believe she blamed her father and the two men in her living room and for the disappearance of her mother. She denied blaming her father but deep down I know she did. That’s where her anger came from. How could it not? That is the version I believed.

Reverend Channing pointed the finger at the Outsiders, claiming his wife's disappearance was the product of devil worship. The police questioned Allison's father but never found anything to hold against him. To my knowledge Allison never mentioned a word to the police about seeing the two men in her living room a month prior to that horrific night. Had she done so, things may have been different. She protected him, and she hated him for it. Reverend Channing's relationship with his daughter was slipping away. He buried himself deeper and deeper in his work. His mind slowly becoming deranged from isolated religious study. Reverend Channing continued going to his corner every Sunday to preach blame and hate, denying his own sin, and bringing God's so-called wrath down on the Outsiders. It was an escape, down the wrong exit.

***

I took the hardest left turn of my life, literally, that morning heading into the school parking lot. The steering wheel felt cemented and locked to its column...every muscle frozen. Students and classmates lined the sidewalks, hugging and consoling one another. McKenzie Smith, who worked with Allison on a project to bring in funding for the school marching band's badly needed new uniforms, fell to her knees at the growing mound of flowers and teddy bears in front of the school’s main entrance. The two had become quite close. Allison wasn’t even a member of the marching band; that was just the type of person she was. I walked coldly by, numb to all emotion and student buzz.

The police ruled it a murder-suicide. Corey left a note on the workbench next to his body hanging from the garage rafters. Only Monika and I knew the truth. He was hated by the Puritans. Allison was made out to be the innocent victim. I didn’t know what I believed. I knew Allison was gone but shock prevented the truth from sinking in.

I saw Reverend Channing on a video news feed. His fake tears made me want to gut him. Rage and loss is a toxic mix. Its poison eats at your soul in indescribable ways. I didn’t care. I wanted more, inviting it in, daring it to take control. The anger that I had always denied grew stronger. I was losing my grip, unsure if I could hang on. Part of me didn’t want to try.

Monika decided it would be best if we didn’t speak to each other for a few days. I agreed to let her study Corey’s journal in exchange for her interpretation of what happened to Allison. We would then decide if we should write an anonymous letter to the police and surrender the journal.

School was impossible. Mourning Allison’s death while having everyone know it was excruciating. People would offer their condolences and I would push them away, too afraid to be vulnerable. People I knew, people whom I considered friends would pass me in the hall and quickly look away, too afraid to reach out. It hurt more than they could ever know. I couldn’t blame them. How could they help someone who doesn't want to be helped? I would do the same thing if the tables were turned.

Holding on to the truth was even more difficult. I considered myself to be a master at burying my feelings so deep that not even I was aware of them. This time was different. Truth is powerful, holding my face to the fire of my own emotions. I wasn't strong enough to face them. All I could see was the sweet girl I once knew. I saw her smile, the day she first said hello. I was so shy and nervous that I could barely look at anyone else in Mrs. Hansen’s 3rd grade class. Allison’s warmth radiated from her body and I felt it immediately as she approached me in the corner. Her kindness cut through my barriers swiftly and with great care. In her presence nothing mattered. Not fear, not anxiety, not anything. Only love mattered. Love between two people. Love between two souls. How could I have lost her? Was I to blame? If only I could have shared how much I truly loved her, given her the charm I cherished so dearly, but was now worthless. I could have saved her from this gruesome fate. I was guilty of sin. My hands were covered in her death as much as her father's, if not more. I was guilty of withholding love. It’s a great sin to bare. To snuff out the only good thing in the world. Let thy light shine for the world to see. So simple. So difficult.

Students lined the hallways and poured out of the gymnasium. Principal Johnson was just finishing his address to the students, reminding us to keep Allison and Corey in our hearts.

"Counseling services will be available to all students. There's a signup sheet outside the administration offices for individual sessions with Dr. Zebedee. Now, I'd like to open the platform to anyone who'd like to say a few words," he said.

Michelle spoke. I figured she would, given how close she and Allison were. In fact, there was an outpouring of support for Allison ... nothing for Corey. Corey took the full blame for Allison's death. His note made no mention of her suicide. He protected her from scrutiny, allowing her to be loved in death. I wondered if reactions would have been different had people known the truth of Allison's suicide.

Monika called three days later. I could breathe again after hearing her voice. We agreed to meet later that night. She had read Corey’s journal. She promised to explain everything. I thanked her, but it didn’t matter. I knew what I had to do.

I descended the rickety old staircase and entered Gateway. “I’ll do it.” My eyes stared sharply into Justin's.

“He’s not ready,” Corbin blurted.

Justin looked sharply back at me. “Nobody ever is.”

“Can you do it?” I asked. “The stories about Sunny Miller, they’re true, aren’t they?”

“So, you figured it out.” Justin said.

“I saw enough of Corey’s journal. I know there’s an open portal.”

Justin's authoritative presence asserted itself. “Yes Will, it’s true. The old doctor was successful in opening the Gates of Hell, we'll, at least a portal.”

I sighed a deep breath. “And it’s true that I have some sort of bloodline that allows me to enter?”

“You have the correct wiring and genetic make-up.” Justin replied.

“Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna save Allison. I'm doing it for her.”

Corbin stepped forward shaking his head. “You haven’t the slightest clue about what you’re up against or how to save her.”

“Maybe not, but I am willing to die trying.”

“We haven’t much time, Will. The longer we wait the farther she can fall. Hell isn’t a single place. It has multiple planes of existence. More than our minds can fathom. It's possible, and unfortunately quite common for someone to fall further and further into the abyss. Your best chance to save her is to act swiftly. For the first time we have the technology to pull this off.” Justin said.

“He hasn’t been properly trained!” Corbin protested.

Justin smiled. “Consider this to be on-the-job training.” Corbin put his head down and walked away. Justin called out to him. “Have faith. We have Gateway.” Corbin didn’t respond. Justin looked back at me. “Tomorrow night then. Be ready.”

***

I walked into Dr. Z’s office the next day for our appointment. “William. I’ve been thinking about you. I am sorry for your loss. I know that Allison was very important to you.” It took all the strength I had to lift my eyes and nod towards his direction. “Would you like to talk about it?”

I was dying to talk about it. I just didn’t know how. “I’ll be ok.”

“William, I know that it's difficult right now. I’m not going to make you talk about it, but when you are ready, it's important to talk."

“Why? Why the hell does it matter? You want all this talking and open communication but it's all pointless.” I was shocked by my own response.

“Negative emotions only become negative when we let them. Experiencing grief and loss is a part of life. An unfortunate part, but an important part. If we bottle emotions they eat away at us, become explosive. Talking about them helps to process and release them. We must allow ourselves to acknowledge and feel the pain we have inside. If not, it will build until it explodes in all sorts of unhealthy ways.”

“Sorry Dr. Z, but I am going to deal with this my way. I’m not talking.”

“I understand. When you are ready.”

“You don’t understand a thing!” My face was red hot. I watched myself lose control and give way to the anger I invited in. Even if I wanted to stop it I couldn’t. The anger held a magnetizing power over me. As if someone were pulling the strings. "I’m going to deal with this. I'm going to help Allison." I said, gaining a temporary edge.

“She’s gone, Will.” Dr. Z. firmly replied.

“Dammit! You think you know everything about me! You don’t know a damn thing! I have abilities you can’t even fathom!”

“If you want to help Allison, pray for her. Pray for love to find her.”

“Prayer, I'm going to do more than just pray. You don't understand. A couple Our Father's ain't gonna cut it doctor. Sometimes it takes more. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.” My breathing was shallow and forced.

“William, I am concerned for your safety. You're extremely vulnerable right now. You aren’t thinking with a rational mind.”

“I’m not going to kill myself if that is what you mean!” I was furious with Dr. Z. What the hell did he know about it? He didn’t just lose the love of his life. To hell with him!

“I didn’t say you were and I don’t believe you will,” he replied.

“Then what the hell man. Just leave me alone!” I opened the office door on my way out. "I'm going to save Allison. I'm a Resurrectionist!" I slammed the door; hearing Dr. Z's voice call out.

"I know."