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.