There Can Be Only One (#6)

The young man was surprised at how quickly it had become so automatic to turn the stream of ice cream into a neatly twirled work of art. His cones were the best if he thought so himself.

Phil and Daryl were now the two workers designated in charge of the snack stand at this campground where the inhabitants attended Bible camp for a good chunk of the summer.

He had gotten this job because of his interest in a girl. Her name was Andrea, and as Phil had worked to strengthen his friendship with her, she had tested him. Of course, she didn’t tell him it was a test, but that’s what he figured it was when she invited him to go to her church.

He had accepted the invitation with the idea that he would ride with her family to church. He had hoped this would be the chance to know her better, but she arranged for a slick-haired guy in cowboy boots to pick him up. He turned out to be the Sunday School teacher for the high school kids at the church. His name was Jack Turner, a well-meaning man who tried too hard to be Phil’s friend. That was how Phil saw it.

When he had been laid off from his job at the gas station, Jack Turner had gotten him this job at the campgrounds for the summer.

It wasn’t too bad a deal to be housed in a large storeroom with ten other male workers, take a place in the serving line at mealtimes, and then work for a couple hours in the snack stand after each chapel service. Break times were scattered throughout his day.

On the weekends, when there were no planned activities, almost everyone went home. Since Phil didn’t have a car, he was left to fill a lonely couple of days on the campgrounds as best as he could.

During one of these lonely weekends, he picked up a roommate’s guitar and found he remembered how to play. This brought back faint memories of playing guitar with a friend, but he couldn’t recall his name. As a result, the following Friday, he talked a co-worker into taking him into the nearest music store to purchase a guitar of his own.

The next week was for families to attend camp together. This was a little less regimented for the campers, but there were also plenty of activities. This required Phil to man the snack shop a little more often with Daryl. The following weekend would be a working weekend as well.

At the moment, the camp director had temporarily put Daryl on another job leaving Phil in the stand by himself. There were no customers at the moment and everything was stocked up and all he could do was wait for business.

Finally, a girl with large expressive eyes came up to the window. Phil smiled and asked for her order.

“I’m bored,” she said. “Just talk to me.”

Phil looked into her face and saw that she did have a bored expression. If he was right, she really didn’t want to be at camp at all.

He found out her name was Debbie and she lived in a suburb of Detroit. She and her parents hadn’t come to camp very often so she didn’t know anyone her own age here. The only reason they were here this year in her opinion was her father had just bought a camper trailer, and this was their first chance to try it out.

Later, when Phil was on a break, he went found her walking by the lake, and sat with her on the end of the dock. He thought she was pretty. She was pale-skinned and had mouse-brown hair. Though Phil had to work at it, when he made her smile, it was well worth the effort, because she lit up and became even prettier in his eyes.

Maybe this was his chance to have someone in his life to give it more meaning. He began to hope his relationship with her would ease the loneliness that never seemed to leave him alone for long. He had left an almost forgotten life at the bottom of a lake in Illinois. Being with her made him feel less like a ghost. He craved to spend more time with her.

Phil was very pleased when she agreed to meet him when he was done working that evening.

There Can Be Only One (#5)

The room had a bed, a desk, a dresser and nightstand, and a small closet. The floor was hardwood with a brown rug next to the bed. Dave had mentioned that the bathroom across the hall would pretty much be his alone to use because his room, the master bedroom, had its own bathroom.

Phil had stashed his camping gear in the small closet and had hung up a denim jacket. The rest of his clothes fit in the top drawer of the dresser.

He had the door closed and was sprawled on the bed. It felt familiar and comfortable to live indoors again. It sure felt better, too.

At his side was a Samurai sword similar to Dave Palmer’s. It was beautiful to Phil. It was battle-ready and razor sharp. This weapon had a strange way of making him feel that fighting for his chance to continue living as an immortal was worth doing.

He had a new friend in Dave and had met some people his own age. Life was worth investigating. Trying to live now seemed sweeter than not trying at all.

He knew he also needed to keep an appointment.

…….

The last of the flashlights had gone out and their owners had driven, biked or walked home leaving one dark car parked in front of the Dwarf’s Playhouse. Phil crouched in the dark of the Playhouse watching the car that was parked almost directly under the only streetlight nearby. No one seemed to be around, and even the vehicle seemed empty. Was his opponent hiding out of site in the car or was he stealthily approaching him from another direction?

A figure appeared in the doorway standing motionless.

A whispering, chatter began to sound in Phil’s ears. Soft laughter, more like giggling repeatedly getting faster and louder as he came closer to the blond immortal. It was as if the painted figures had come alive on the walls and began to become hysterical at the prospect of a fight.

“Come out of there and let’s go into the open,” murmured the figure in the doorway.

When Phil was about one hundred yards from the Dwarf’s Playhouse, the blond immortal charged into him. It was all he could do to parry each sword blow. The young immortal was backed further into the field and away from the light of the streetlight.

In a moment after he knew he had gotten within the range of one of the blonde’s sword strokes, Phil whirled away only to feel wetness running down his belly. He knew he had a deep slash wound and could bleed out fast and pass out. He’d lose his head before he could heal.

He ran back toward the light and one particular house. The yard was fenced, but Phil hoped that what he had planned would work. Yes, the cement blocks were still arranged against the wooden privacy fence in a makeshift staircase. He ran up the blocks feeling them shift with his weight and vaulted the fence.

His feet hit the ground hard on the other side. Phil knew to roll to absorb some of the impact and to deflect his momentum, but he found he had rolled into a swimming pool. In a moment his head surfaced, but it had been as if his dream from the other night were coming true. Something inside of him screamed I want to live!

He stood ready, waist deep in the shallow end of the swimming pool.

His immortal opponent vaulted over the fence, but caught his foot on the top. He landed on his side in the yard. From the sound of his expelled breath, his landing must have been a painful one. He scrambled to his feet and gasped, “Come on!”

“If you want my head, come in and get it!”

In the pool, the battle continued. The water brought Phil’s dream to the front of his consciousness, and the idea of the water claiming his body began to interfere with his concentration. Again something inside him screamed I want to live!

As Phil began to fight harder, the blond immortal seemed to become more sluggish with fatigue. All the cloudy darkness in the water could have been their blood. Both of them had more wounds.

The house was dark and nothing seemed to stir or even be aware of the life and death struggle in the swimming pool. There was only the sound of metal striking metal when it wasn’t whistling through the air or severing flesh.

When the opening came, Phil took advantage and the blond head seemed to vanish from the shoulders.

There was a pressure building somewhere. Phil couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but he knew he was its destination. The water in the pool began to roil and boil. Lightning bolts shot form the floating headless body into him as if he were some kind of grounding rod. As he convulsed in the storm of his first absorption of a quickening, hysterical giggling was loud in his ears.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he was finally able to drag himself out of the pool.

Now there was the horrible task of getting rid of the body. He would bury it in the field and clean the pool area as best he could, but he knew the police would know of this soon. There was no way he could completely hide what had taken place, so he needed to concentrate on hiding the evidence of his own involvement. No had ever told him about that part of being an immortal.

There Can Be Only One (#4)

Phil ran up a sidewalk that led into the college campus. He had to hide in the trees next to a building to keep from being seen from the street.

Carefully, he looked out to see if he had been followed. In the streetlight, there was a man with almost frizzy blond hair wearing a trench coat. He was slowly walking toward him, but was not holding a weapon. Before he came close enough to see Phil, he stopped. In a voice that was just loud enough for Phil to hear the man said, “I know you’re here, but this is no place for our business. Tomorrow night I’ll be at the Dwarf’s Playhouse by two in the morning. If you don’t show, I don’t want to see you on the campus again.”

He began to back away toward the street. In a moment, he turned and headed for a car that was parked on the street nearby.

Phil guessed that the immortal worked at the college. Maybe he was a teacher or something. He was sure he had come from one of the faculty buildings.

When he was gone, Phil made his way back to his campsite.

…….

No man is an island.

…….

The next afternoon, Phil was on David Palmer’s porch sitting in one of the lawn chairs as his host handed him a Pepsi.

“So what is this Dwarf’s Playhouse?”

“Let’s go there now. You can see it for yourself,” suggested Dave. He reached inside the front door of his house and brought out a Japanese sword—a katana.

Dave placed his sword on the back seat of his black Honda Accord as the two strapped in.

The Dwarf’s Playhouse was a cement block structure at the end of a street that would have dead-ended in a large fallow field if it hadn’t been built. There didn’t seem to be anything special about the building until Phil ducked into the low opening that was its entrance.

At first, the interior walls seemed to be covered with graffiti, but after a closer look, these were fine lined painted drawings of funny looking humanoid figures, animals and landscapes. These were not the spray painted gang symbols, initials, and obscenities that Phil had expected to see.

“Kids come here with flashlights at night to walk through this maze of cement blocks and look at the strange drawings you see,” said Dave as he came in behind Phil.

“There doesn’t seem to be electricity in here. I guess it would be pretty eerie here at night,” responded Phil.

“When so many kids show up at the same time, it kind of spoils the effect,” laughed Dave. “It’s like a line to ride the roller coaster that runs through here on some nights.”

“I can’t see this as a place for a fight,” declared Phil.

“You don’t intend to meet that guy, do you?”

“I can’t run forever. I should face him.”

“You’ll die.”

“I’m supposed to be dead anyway. I’ve lost all that I used to have and even the memories of who I was.”

“You can make a new life for yourself,” said Dave. “I can help you.”

“How can I know who I am unless I remember something? How can I remember unless I am in familiar surroundings? I can’t go back home because I’m supposed to be dead.”

“You’re alone too much. Why don’t you move in with me? You’ll have a room and the freedom to come and go, as you like. It’s starting to get cold at night. At least spend the winter at my house.”

“Maybe I will move in.”

“Anytime you’re ready.”

“Do you think he wants to fight me here?” asked Phil changing the subject.

“Many immortals play the game their own way. Maybe he thinks he has an edge by fighting you here. You should always try to pick your own ground for a battle. Has your sword come yet?” asked Dave.

“My instructor has it, but he wants all the money first,” replied Phil.

“Let’s go get it. You can pay me back as soon as you can.”

…….

A quickening is supposed to be a violent transfer of an immortal’s strength to the immortal who takes his head. Doc had told Phil that the jangling, electric feeling an immortal gets when coming near another of his kind, is only the barest whisper of the feeling when receiving someone’s quickening.

Phil understood that if he took a head, he would be stronger and able to stand a better chance of survival in the deadly game all immortals sooner or later are compelled to play.

He had begun to think it wasn’t worth trying to live this way. When he had discovered the immortal at the college, the man had come right to the point and challenged him. Phil had some training now, but he felt very inadequate to hold his own in a fight to the death—which meant the taking of a head.

He had wanted to live when he had met that girl at her party—Andrea. If his life had someone like her in it, he knew he would want to live even with the strange immortal rules. Yet, she was just a new acquaintance. There was nothing more than friendship potential between them that she could easily cast aside. Her doing so would mean little to her and much more to him because he was so lonely.

Yesterday, Dave Palmer had offered to share his house with him after he had expressed his thought of just giving up his head. Maybe Dave just felt sorry for him, but a definite offer of friendship was made.

A flash of memory came to him. Someone had told him, “To make a friend, you have to be a friend.” It had been his Dad.

Phil decided he would be a friend to Dave. Trusting someone was so much easier than trusting no one.

More to come....

When your eyes gaze at me
They tend to dim and glaze at me
But look at me long enough to view
That my heart is wide open to you

There Can Be Only One (3rd Installment)

He was swimming, trying to get to the surface of a body of water. He needed to breathe, but the sunlit surface was still quite a distance above him. He lungs began to burn with his desperate need for a breath of air. It didn’t look like he would make it in time before his breathing reflex would flood his lungs with water.

He couldn’t resist any more and gasped hard.

He made a loud croaking sound as he took in—not water, but air. His eyes flew open to see he was in his tent with the sun shining on it in such a way that told him it was morning. It had been a dream.

That was too close to what had actually happened to him. Doc had told him that he had pulled him out of a car at the bottom of a lake that also contained the bodies of his parents.

It was strange that he didn’t remember very much of his life before opening his eyes to the sight of Doc dripping wet, bending over him. All he knew was he did remember having parents and had graduated from high school. Doc had promised that his memories would come back to him over time. It had been a little over a month since he found he had come back from the dead.

Now it was time to go to work. He now had a job at a gas station that David Palmer had helped him to get. He had been quick to learn how to run the cash register and stock the snack items that were sold to those who came to buy gas.

With a job, he was on his way to finding a place for himself in this town. It was just a new town, though to Phil it seemed a brand new world with rules that were not fully understood.

He needed to make some money to eat, buy a sword, and to be trained to use it for his survival. Those goals had to come first, but what about living forever—barring the loss of his head? What about remaining eighteen years old for all time? These two things were hard to grasp.

Why couldn’t he remember his old life? That frustration would come to the surface of his thoughts more times a day than he would have liked. It could be the source of his dream.

Phil had taken Dave’s advice and enrolled in a fencing class. He had even brought up the subject of buying a sword to the instructor Dave had recommended. Now it was a matter of getting the money to pay for it.

……….

I envy the sun every kiss upon your skin.

……….

It was Friday night and Phil had cashed his first paycheck from the gas station. He had pressed his boss to work as many hours as he could to earn money for the sword as well as to eat. He had worked two weeks for about 96 hours, and was ready to do something fun for a change.

One of his fellow workers, a guy named Steve who worked part time while attending the local college, invited him to a party for one of his friends still in high school. Steve thought that this girl would enjoy Phil’s sense of humor as much as he did.

Phil wasn’t so sure, but he wanted to make some friends and this party sounded like a good place to start. He had brought a change of clothes to work so he could shower at Dave’s and be picked up there in Steve’s car.

It was dark when the two pulled up near the house. The party was to be in the back yard, and as the two approached the driveway, they could see the light shining from the rear of the house.

Steve lifted the latch of the chain link gate and led Phil up to a brunette talking to several people on the deck attached to the house. She was petite with dark hair and eyes, but Phil couldn’t decided what color they were in the uncertain light from the string of lantern shaped lights attached to the rails of the deck. He could make out perfect teeth and a generous amount of freckles on her face, neck, and disappearing into the neckline of her shirt.

Phil thought she could easily be a fashion model.

She greeted Steve warmly as he began to introduce Phil. “Andrea, this is Phil. Phil, this is Andrea.” He smiled and looked at Phil expectantly.

Phil looked her in the eye and said, “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” said Andrea. “There’s all kinds of snacks and soda is in the cooler. Help yourself.”

When Andrea turned to reply to another girl’s hail, Steve murmured to Phil, “She’s kinda religious, so there won’t be any beer or reef here.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He grabbed a soda and began to take in everything around him. Seeing all these people close to his own age caused him to remember having graduated from high school somewhere, probably in Illinois. A vague memory of his own open house party flashed through his mind, but without many details.

He also remembered the cliques and attitudes from high school and began to try to figure out what sort of group came to a party for a girl like Andrea.

Phil found himself keeping within earshot of Andrea and couldn’t help watching her. There didn’t seem to be a single thing he didn’t like about her. Her freckles even brought a memory of someone telling him that freckles were kisses from the sun. In that case, the sun sure loved her and didn’t detract from her beauty at all.

…….

The party had been pleasant, and Phil had felt that those that knew Steve had tacitly accepted him. He was glad that Andrea seemed to be one of them.

Phil took a route back to his tent that took him past the college. It was there that he felt that jangling, electric feeling that came with the presence of another immortal.

Check back later….

I left you alone
When you turned your back on me
As if thinking for yourself,
One day would set you free