Chapter Fifty: The End


    “Fear is a poison produced by the mind, and courage is the antidote stored always ready in the soul.”


    -Dean Koontz, One Door Away from Heaven


    Tim knew he was a lightweight and had half expected himself to be swept off the roof by the high altitude wind. But when he stepped out of the service exit and onto the skyscraper''s rooftop, he encountered not one breeze nor a drop of rain. The portal floated menacingly above the centre of the roof, just waist height above the ''H'' of the helicopter landing pad, purple and blue Mist swirling around and above its bus wide diameter, spewing gas like a fountain. It was like a tear in the universe, someone unplugging a drain in the sky and the water was travelling out in reverse. He watched as the gas spun on the outskirts of the edge of the building, just out of reach from the parapet, wind swirling outside of his little bubble like the centre of a tornado.


    He had confidence up till that point. Balls of it in fact. But faced with the whirling portal, it occurred to him that he had no clue of what to actually do to close it. He climbed onto the helipad platform and carefully walked up to the portal. Raising his hand to it, he focused, squinted, tried to close it with the power of his mind.


    It did not work. He waved his hand over his view. Nothing. Once again, movie logic - of magic this time - had failed him.


    Beyond the centre of the portal, he saw what he could only describe as the universe horizon. Similar to what he learned in science class about the event horizon of a black hole, where not even light could escape, there was an image, sharper than anything around it, curved and distorted as the world would seem through a droplet of water. Within it, there were figures, clear entities of green, moving around in a pattern aside from the chaotic whirl that happened within his world.


    He paced around the portal, thinking of how to close it. He wondered if he needed physical contact to even interact with the energy. But just as he contemplated on going closer, his left hand raised itself instinctively towards the direction of the portal.


    Some of the veins in his forearm began to glow white, though disjointed and few, they spread upwards towards his elbow almost like a circuit, blooming like a flower.


    XXX


    Another spectre slowly returned to its physical form. Sleek black hair, drooping eyes, another bullet wound to the forehead. Adam Pearlman was not Joshua Kleve, and Sister frustratingly released the dead back to the realm of incorporeal.


    She was running out of time, with Brother''s hard earned extra seconds ticking away for her. There were literally billions of dead. Even though the group she stood in seemed to be of those who were killed in Ridge Valley, that was still hundreds of thousands of spectres to comb through. She had barely covered the first hundred.


    She closed her eyes, her mind drawing up the image of Timothy. The maroon hair. The focused, determined green eyes. The rare smile. The missing arm? No. He had an arm before coming to the dream world. She felt a breeze pass her and opened her eyes to a green spectre floated mildly before her.


    Slowly, the gas peeled away, revealing the face underneath it. The hair was almost golden, and his build was muscular. Despite the polar contrast, she knew, without a doubt, that she had found Joshua Kleve, for his face was a splitting image of his son.


    His eyes flickered open, his fingers twitched as life after death flowed back into him. For a moment, he stared at her drowsily, almost as if he was a baby who had just woken from a nap, trying to make sense of the world around him. A glint then rushed back into his eyes as they wandered the landscape.


    Memories of his death at the hands of The Father flooded back. Distracting the creature to save his son, to the cut with the saw that took his life. He looked down to his shoulder, still dried red. “I was dead. It was so...quiet,” his eyes flew wide as his brain wrapped itself around the situation. “Tim! You said Tim sent you? Is he okay? Where is he?”


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    She had expected some resistance. “Aren''t you going to hear what it is first?” from what Stella had told her, Tim''s relationship with his father had been rocky for years.


    She nodded understandingly. His love for his son was proof that the method she had used to locate him had not work of coincidence. She explained, “He''s trying to stop The Father from tearing into your universe. Basically, Tim''s trying to kill him,” she noticed his shock and eagerness to reply, but stopped him with an understanding nod. “I know it''s dangerous, but there''s no other way here.”


    He must have held his breath through that explanation for Josh let out a loud sigh in resignation. “Okay. What does he need me to do?”


    She chuckled, “Yeah. He''s the most selfish selfless person I''ve ever met.”


    Zoot. Zun. Zoot. Zun.


    Sister spun towards the sound. Standing just a hundred meters away was The Father, apparently finished with his battle with The Brother.


    Joshua exclaimed, “Back for round two, asshole?!”


    He made a step forward but Sister held him back. “No! If you break contact with me, you''ll lose your consciousness. You''ve been away from your physical body for too long, you''ll just become one of these ghost again!” she gestured at the spectres around them. “If that happens, you won''t be able to help Tim!


    Sister starred down The Father, once again cornered by the man with the saw and straw hat. Uttering a rare curse, she prepared to buy enough time for Tim to get to them, despite knowing her combat ability not matching up to that of her opponent''s. But just as she readied her cloth for battle, a gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder.


    She turned, and Tim, in his real world white shirt and brown cargo pants, both arms intact, stood beside them. Behind the teenager and at the base of the whirl of energy, a tunnel was cut clean through it. In the middle of the passageway, past the universe horizon, was the crystal clear, albeit inverted image of the rooftop of Hotel Alexandria.


    He smiled to her, “I got this. Go close the portal.”


    But before she could finish, he said, “I love you, Sally Sparrow,” and with the blink of an eye, the girl in white vanished from the dimension.


    He yanked away from his father just as the man faded completely, before making a mad dash for the tunnel home. Tim could hear The Father speeding towards him, slashing through the air with the same ferocity and whistle as a jet would across the sky.


    The Father bleached away from the dream world, reappearing right on the opposite end of the portal, its weapon cutting through the empty air in front of it. Pulling out his revolver, Tim jumped just at the edge of the whirlwind. He glanced left, and a flash of strawberry blonde caught his eyes, Stella''s last smile forever burnt into his mind. Shoulder first, he crashed through the universe horizon and slammed down onto the helipad.


    He could not afford the time to cry in pain, settling for a grunt of discomfort as he quickly shot back up to his feet. Revolver out, sights aimed down at the figure at the edge of the roof and beyond the helipad, Vashmir Commons turned just in time to see the first flash from the muzzle and felt the bullet ripping through his shoulder. Tim fired two more rounds in succession. Still with his supernatural abilities, Vashmir brought up his saw, moving at a speed fast enough to block them, the bullets clanking and sparking off the blade.


    The teen rushed in. With just three bullets left, he could not afford to miss. Tim aimed at his opponent''s face and fired two more rounds. The sawman raised its weapon again, blocked the shots before they could reach him. For the split second that his own weapon covered his line of sight, Tim leapt wildly from the helipad, landing both his feet firmly onto the creature''s chest. One hand holding The Father by the head, he jammed the barrel of the gun into the gap between the saw handle and The Father''s finger.


    The trigger clicked.


    The firing pin knocked in.


    The bullet exploded out of the chamber.


    Smoke rose. Dismembered fingers, smashed and some disintegrated, burst apart from the hand. The saw dropping to the floor.


    Tim jumped back and landed on his feet. He threw the emptied gun at The Father, who swatted at the projectile. But without his weapon or his fingers, missed completely, and the firearm simply smacked him in the eyes. Vashmir swiped the weapon away, the blood from his hand smeared across his face, no longer a shadow of a nightmare, but that of a human, twisted with anger.


    He lost track of the teenager, and could only watch as the helipad moved further and further away as Tim tackled him square in the gut with the full, desperate force of his body. He was lifted off his feet, arms flailing in desperation as the two of them toppled over the parapet.


    As Tim fell off the roof, watching The Father plummet away from him towards the ground below and the adrenaline of death by fall shooting through his veins, he could vividly see the faces of his best friends, Clay and Stella. His father, Josh, and his mother, Miranda, the day before she died. There were images of birthday parties and outings. Sleepovers and dinners. First day of school and last days of summer. He willed himself to skip all those memories. Life would have another chance to flash by his eyes when he dies of old age.


    He reached towards the outstretched hand above him, grabbing it just before he was out of reach. Tim swung back to the building, slamming face first into the steel wall. His nose bled, but he did not care. One hand held up, he kicked desperately against the wall to prevent himself from falling and pushed and flailed against gravity. He swung his free hand, found the edge of the parapet, and with his saviour''s help, pulled himself up, over, and back on the rooftop, collapsing onto the ground in a final heave.


    Lying on his back, staring up through gaps in the dispersing Mist, the stars wrinkled in the night sky. Tim panted to his rescuer, “Thanks.”


    Sister knelt beside him. After a moment however, decide to lie down instead, his arm stretched out as a pillow for her to lay in. “Don''t ever make me do that again,” she huffed out, curling into his shoulder.


    He could hear her heartbeat, the steady thumbing as she tried desperately to calm it down. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that the portal had been closed. The purple gas no longer spewing, the wind no longer twirling, the world no longer crazy, he could finally feel all the aches in his bones and creaks in his muscles.


    It took awhile for her to answer, “Yeah?” her own name contradictorily sounded both foreign and familiar to her.


    His chest rose steadily with each breath. His heart no longer beating at death''s door. The moon peeked out from the clouds. She kissed him on the cheek. He slept in evening''s gaze.