Until We Burn_A Psychological Thriller Page 8

  The pastor stood up and stretched out a hand to Cyrus. “Thank you so much. You really… you really don’t know how much it means to me. Cyrus Streett in the church building again. Who would’ve thought, but the good Lord Jesus.”

  Cyrus smirked and shook the pastor’s hand. “Whatever you say.”

  “What a miracle. I never did think we’d see you back, Cyrus. It’s just positively jovial. Yes, that’s the word. What a brilliantly jovial occasion.” Pastor Keener stumbled over to the door and yanked it open, to find Will standing on the other side, fist raised in a knocking position. “Why hello, sunny! What a great day outside, eh? Carry on, carry on. Don’t let an old man stop you. That’s it. Now get to work, you! Lots of work today for good Cyrus. He deserves a rest, after last night, isn’t that true?”

  Will stepped into the house awkwardly, shying away from the pastor.

  The door slammed shut and they could hear Pastor Keener’s rant carrying on down the sidewalk and then crunching over gravel; the engine revved to life. As he pulled out of the driveway, Will stared blankly at Cyrus.

  “That was about… what exactly?”

  Cyrus plopped down on the couch and let out a deep sigh. “Politics.”

  Will nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Not sure what you mean, really.” He took a seat beside Cyrus on the sofa. “Did you hear about the riot at the church?”

  Cyrus ignored his question. “How are you holding up? Doing well?”

  “Sure, yeah.” Will picked at a callus lining his palm. “Last night was pretty… scary.”

  “But also very educational,” Cyrus mumbled, tapping on his knee rapidly. “How’s the girl?”

  “Her name is Zada, and she’s good. She’s tough.”

  “Tougher than you?” He raised an eyebrow at Will.

  “I… maybe. I guess.” Will mumbled something else and folded his arms. “Did you wanna talk to me or what?”

  “Yes, yes.” Cyrus clapped his hands and picked up the pastor’s coffee. “Almost forgot. Follow me into the kitchen, if you don’t mind.”

  Will followed him across the living room and through the doorway. As soon as he stepped inside the kitchen, he noticed the massive picture laid out on the table, and the various locations pinned to the wall. All of them were screenshots of Google Earth, with different colored lines drawn on them.

  “This is our main suspect,” Cyrus announced, leaning over the table. “And these are his main locations.”

  Will’s eyes lit up as he glanced around the display. At first, they were wide and excited, almost amazed. Then a shadow grew over them and he turned to Cyrus.

  “No. This… I don’t want to stalk this guy, not with Zada.”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “You said you would help me, did you not?”

  “I don’t wanna put her in danger!” Will exclaimed. “That could’ve gone so much worse than it did before. You don’t understand how… terrifying that was.” He lowered his head. “I was scared, and if not for her I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  “You think being scared is a bad thing,” Cyrus said. “You think her being there was a bad thing. And yet you just said that she saved you. Because of her, you fought harder and thought faster. You had more to lose, and so losing wasn’t an option. Do you realize that unless we stop this guy, anybody in the town could die? She isn’t safe, with you or without you.”

  “But… if I put her in harm’s way…”

  “If you put her in harm’s way, then you have another person to help you. What do you think Zada will do when every time you do something for me, she doesn’t know if you’ll come back? She wants to be with you. She wants to protect you. You can’t protect her forever, Will. Danger is coming to us all. One way or another, we’ll all face it. Might as well do it with friends and loved ones.”

  Will nodded, staring down at his hands. “I’m not taking her anywhere too dangerous, though. And not at night.”

  Cyrus scratched at his arm, staring at the wall full of papers and pins. “Fine. I’ll make it work.”

  “Thank you.” He sighed. “Thank you.”

  There was a moment of tension draining like puss from a wound. They stared at each other, calm breaths. Cyrus broke it, finally, ushering Will away.

  “Get to work,” he said, turning towards the sink. “Nothing else to discuss today.”

  “Painting? Or lawn stuff?”

  “Whatever you want.” Cyrus plopped his elbows on the kitchen counter, staring out the window. “Do what you want.”

  “Hey, I meant to ask you…”

  Cyrus turned around and stared at Will from over his shoulder. There was an unfamiliar look in his eyes, a danger brought on by something random. “What about?”

  “That picture in the living room, on the shelf. I noticed it a while back and forgot to ask. It has the-”

  “White chairs on a beach. Yes.” Cyrus swallowed hard, and his voice cracked. “Ophelia painted it.”

  “I saw one like it, in a store. Zada thought it was really cool. There were… chairs, kinda like that, with people on them. But the stage was gone, and there just stared at the sea.” Will smiled at the memory. “It was… good.”

  “She painted that one too, yeah. She was fantastic at it. Everything she painted was a way to release the darkness, those inside thoughts we all have. It was her outlet. Because if we can’t find an outlet, they find one by themselves.”

  “That’s… um, good. I guess.”

  “Did you end up buying one?” Cyrus questioned absent-mindedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Yeah, she did.”

  “What was it? It may have been another of hers.” Cyrus asked. “I’m interested. I might wanna see it. That one on the shelf is the only painting of hers I have left. She made it especially for me. I might try and buy the second one you mentioned, too.”

  “There was a little guy, a doll, with sailor clothes on.”

  Cyrus whipped around. “Don’t you ever bring that painting here. Ever.”

  Will took a step back. “I-”

  “Go work, now. I’m not paying you to talk.”

  < >< ><><><><>

  Will stepped in the back door of the house, noticing how silent it was. He was sweating and exhausted, looking forward to collapsing at home in his room. The weed eater was stowed away in the garage, as well as the lawn mower.

  Everything was neat and tidy, except for the rectangle patch of grass that was marked off as “Do Not Mow.” It grew up high, and every week Cyrus said he would be turning it into a garden soon. That never happened, though. It was peculiar.

  Taking a long, cold drink from his glass, Will stood by the door and his eyes swept over the room. There was no sign of Cyrus, and no sounds except for the fan whirring in the living room. A faint, static noise drifted through the doorway, coming from the television.

  “Alright then,” Will mumbled, setting the glass down in the sink. “Checking out.”

  Stepping quietly across the kitchen floor, he headed into the living room, his eyes flicking to the screen. No external sounds reached his ears, everything completely silent. A small humming emanated from the television; most likely the familiar, deja-vu inducing sound on the VHS tape whirring.

  The video was unsteady and shaky, an amateur, homemade art. Only then did he notice Cyrus laying on the couch, sprawled out and lifeless. There were a few beer bottles around him, scattered on the table and the floor. One of them lay on its side, a trickle of liquid dripping to the carpet without noise. If not for those, he might have been thought dead.

  Will’s eyes locked to the scene on the TV, wanting to turn away and leave for the day. He stared, with a sense of unease.

  It was a bride, spinning around on the beach, with the beautiful sky behind her. Behind her thin veil, the sun was casting a deep shadow on her face. It brought out her eyes, as she smiled with a radiance brighter than even the sunset. Her neck was smooth and tan, and her wedding dress rippled down her b
ody as she laughed. Her beauty, something haunted and captivating, unsettled him.

  The television was turned down low, so that whenever her mouth opened it was an indistinguishable murmur. There was a man’s voice that answered her, words that were too blurred to understand. She stepped forwards and reached out, towards the camera man, for his hand. She raised it to her lips and kissed it, giggling.

  Slowly, the scene on the VHS shifted to the left, where a blanket was laid out on the sand. There was a small baby on its back, peering up at the sky. The woman pushed her short, blonde hair behind her ears and crawled over to the baby, coddling it, her wedding dress dragging in the sand.

  The camera lowered to the ground, where it was set in the sand. A man stepped over it, going to join his family on the blanket. He was instantly recognizable, with the same tough features, although his smile seemed too genuine, and the tuxedo he wore suited a much different person. His face was years younger, lacking the wrinkles and scars that would mark it forevermore.

  “Cyrus…” Will muttered.

  As he stepped over to the blanket and picked up the small child, his wife turned away and crawled back to the camera over the sand. Cyrus was behind her, chuckling with the baby, but her face took on a dark expression.

  Her lips curled and she reached out a finger, slowly, touching the camera’s lense. Glancing back over her shoulder towards Cyrus, she laughed and waved, but as soon as she faced the recorder her face set in deep, cold stone.

  With one last gaze, she blew the camera a half-hearted kiss and shut it off.

  “Ophelia.”

  Chapter 14

  Cyrus and the Flaw

  *Years Ago*

  Cyrus pulled into the school parking lot, wearing sunglasses and grumbling about the speed bumps. Ophelia had called, said she needed a ride, and he obliged, even though no part of him wanted to help. His head still pounded from the night before, and anytime he stood up too quickly his head spun.

  “What the hell…”

  He sped up, driving beside the sidewalk, and braked directly in front of the main door. Just outside it, Ophelia and some other boy were talking. He was nerdy, with glasses, but Cyrus could see that expression on his face from miles away. He was enchanted by her, staring at her lips, and occasionally his eyes dipped lower to her breasts.

  “Hey!” Cyrus called out, rolling down the window.

  Ophelia turned to smile at him, but quickly lost it. “Is something wrong, babe?”

  “Get away from my girlfriend, you dick!” He stared directly at the boy.

  “What do you-?”

  “I said get away!” Cyrus hollered, putting a hand on the door in case he needed to prove just how serious he was.

  “Cyrus, calm down. I’m coming.” Ophelia huffed, stuffing her books into a backpack and shuffling over to the passenger’s seat.

  Cyrus grumbled, and glanced out. Whoever this kid was, he was a year or two younger, probably a sophomore. “Hey, kid! Next time I see-”

  “Stop it,” Ophelia commanded, slamming her door shut and snapping to get his attention. “Just drive.” She rolled her window up, muttering something inaudible.

  With his lip curled, Cyrus opened his mouth, but her expression made him go silent. The car jerked as it shifted into gear, and made a low sound as he accelerated.

  “Who is he?” Cyrus asked, a few minutes later, after awkward, tense silence. “Why was he looking at you like that?”

  “He’s a kid from Sociology. I was just talking to him about homework, alright? Calm down.” She shook her head, glaring at the world outside her window. “Am I not allowed to talk to other guys, ever, about even homework?”

  Cyrus didn’t answer. He felt his heart give way. Knowing just how mad she was, his anger turned to sadness then to fear.

  “Why are you so worried about it, all of a sudden?” she continued.

  “You know how most couples are in high school,” he mumbled. “They have sex, they break up. I just… I’m afraid we’ll be like that.”

  “Nobody else is gonna break us up,” she insisted. “Only we have the power to do that. I don’t wanna leave you either, Cyrus, and I’m definitely not gonna cheat on you, alright? So… so just try to trust me, please.”

  He nodded, pulling into the driveway of her house a short moment later. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I don’t want this to become an issue we have to deal with forever,” she said calmly, placing a hand on his leg. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I do want us to get through this. The… the jealousy stuff… it’s not good for us. For you. We’ve been dating over three months now, okay? I want this to just be the beginning, not when we fall apart.”

  She moved to exit the car, but Cyrus snatched at her hand, pulling her back in. There were tears in his eyes, and a look of shame on his face.

  “How… do I know that I’m good enough for you?” he whispered. “That you won’t get tired and cheat on me? That you’ll be happy here?”

  “Cyrus…” She placed one hand on the side of his face, feeling the stubble from his ear, all the way down his jaw line. “Trust me. I love you. I always will. Don’t you know that? I’d go insane if I didn’t have you. You’re my entire world, and without you I would die. Also…” She groaned. “Well, I need to tell you something.”

  He nodded, listening. “Okay.”

  “I’m…” Her face fell.

  “What is it, Ophelia?”

  “Even if I wanted to cheat on you, I never could. I don’t want to. I’m not saying that. Just…” She took a deep breath, wiped the smeared makeup off her cheeks. “I’m pregnant. With your kid.”

  Chapter 15

  Twilight

  “In the dark times that we face, where will you look?”

  That was the first line of Pastor Keener’s sermon, echoing out over the congregation, despite the lock of a microphone. Cyrus sat in the back row, closest to the door. Will was down the pew from him, sitting beside Zada and her family. Every once in a while, the teenagers would glance over. Cyrus saw them, from the corner of his eye, but didn’t react.

  “These are, for sure, dark times.” Pastor Keener folded his hands and stared out across the people. “Darker times, perhaps, than we have ever seen. Whatever terrible monster came to us so many years ago, in the old church, has returned with a vengeance. It is attacking our friends, our family, and will come for all of us left. This town is no longer safe. Werifesteria, for the first time in over a decade, faces a real danger. We are… lost.

  “Unless! Unless we turn to God. Unless we hold fast to the one who set us here on the Earth, and who will preserve us through all the dangers that come our way. That is our only option, our only hope. ‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.’ These words from Isaiah are more true than ever, and we should hold to them more now than ever.”

  Cyrus shook his head, mumbling to himself. All the people around him stared up at the pastor, unflinching and unblinking. Their heads were turned like sheep to a shepherd, and they held their breaths at every word that came from his holy mouth. Will and Zada were the only two not in a trance, and the only ones who seemed to be alive.

  “I know you are all… scared. You aren’t alone. We’re all together, terrified. Trust me. The answer is not through violence or rioting, and not through rude treatment of our new member. You know what I believe can help us through this unfortunate paranoia? Open your Bibles with me to Psalms. …”

  The rest of the service passed like molasses. Once the pastor has finished his sermon, everybody stood up with bated breath as the pianist joined Pastor Keener on stage. They sang what seemed like a dozen songs, all rolled into one, drawn-out hymn. At the end, they finished with a hearty, voices-only chorus, which was met by thunderous applause.

  Clapping for their God, Cyrus wondered, or for their pastor?

  At the end, an offering plate was passed around. It started in the front and rolled to the back o
f the church like a wave, picking up bills and checks as it swirled through the crowd. When it came to Cyrus, he pulled out a dollar and placed it inside, staring down the usher as he did so.

  “And now, let us conclude the day by giving a warm welcome to the man who may be an answer to our prayers! You’ve all seen him around town, but many of you didn’t recognize him. He is, after all, one of our own, and he’s lost just as much as we have, yet he clings to God in these dark, dark times. Everybody, welcome with me… Mr. Cyrus Streett!”

  Pastor Keener’s eyes went directly to him, as Cyrus hunched in his seat and tried not to meet anybody’s eyes. It was impossible, of course, as everyone has stood up and began to clap. It was slow at first, but eventually grew stronger before fading away. They all gave him suspicious glances, although more than a few were turned to curiosity, not hate. A subtle endorsement from their pastor had changed many people’s minds.

  “Good, good.” The pastor nodded, spreading out his hands as if to embrace them all in one, big hug. “Now go, brothers and sisters, and keep yourself safe. The church is always open, and God’s children are always at peace!”

  Cyrus shook a few hands, as the crowd drifted out the doors behind him. A little girl walked past, wrinkling her nose when they made eye contact.

  “I know,” she mumbled, reaching up and shaking his hand with the expression of an adult. “I know what you don’t.”

  Cyrus backed away from her, and felt his body crash into someone else.

  “Well, hello there.”

  Cringing as he turned around, Cyrus came nose-to-nose with the librarian who he’d met in the grocery store. She was wearing a low-cut, red dress, made almost entirely of lace and covering very little. Her pants were too tight to be comfortable, and her face took an unnatural color, caked in a drowning layer of makeup.

  “I heard you were coming today,” she whispered, biting her lip. “So I… dressed up.”

  Cyrus did his best to keep a straight face and not wretch. “Thanks.”