Chapter 22

The big bed was lonely that night.

Sometime in the early morning hours, I realized that I couldn’t live there, anymore. I had to go away ... somewhere far away ... and stay away while I searched for a new life, because the one I had was all gone.

My bride left me for my business partner. I saved her from starvation, and she rewarded me by screwing my closest friend.

They bought me out of the house so that I would leave town.

George bought the studio to get me out of the business that I saved from the vultures for him. That wasn’t enough for them. He had to have my wife and the studio, as well as my house.

I really did need to go.

So I did.

I was gone before dawn.

The Ozark Mountains loomed ahead of me as I sped through the predawn fog. I was driving my Escalade, packed with the things that I would need over the next few months. With no destination in mind, I pointed the four-wheel drive vehicle toward the south and let my mind disconnect for a few hours. It took some time and a bit of creativity, but I managed to use my iPhone to hire a packing and moving firm to pack up the things I wanted to keep from the house, and place them in long term storage near Branson. The local boat yard agreed to pick up my water toys and sell them for me, keeping twenty-five percent as a sales commission. By the time I felt hunger pangs, I had it all arranged and left a voice mail for Colleen to let Abby know she could move back in any time after the weekend.

It was nearly lunchtime on the fifth day of my trip to nowhere – or everywhere, depending on your view of things - when I rolled through Thonotosassa, Florida on Interstate Four and saw a billboard for the world’s largest RV dealership. I turned off to see what they had that might interest me.

It took the rest of that day and the next before I found a motor coach I could call my own. It was a forty-four foot Integra Aspire and it was lovely. Instead of looking for the most expensive coach in the world, I looked for one that reflected me and my need. As long as I felt out of sorts, I expected to be on the move, looking for something, somewhere, where I could settle down and see what comes next. I needed a coach that made the wait as pleasant as possible.

The bus style coach that I eventually picked out was stickered at just under eight-hundred thousand dollars, but I bought it for a little under six-hundred grand. The new coaches had started coming out with king sized beds and rear - full bathrooms, complete with apartment style, stacked washer / dryer, instead of those combo units that barely work. I loved the opposing, twin leather sofas. They gave me plenty of room to stretch out and relax. The rest of the coach was pretty darn nice, too.

I picked up my coach on a Wednesday and headed south towards Punta Gorda, Florida. The city was snuggled up against Charlotte Harbor and the Gulf of Mexico. It was a winter paradise, weather wise, and I was so in the mood for warm days and cool evenings. It was a balmy seventy-seven degrees when I pulled in to the Harbor Belle RV Park, where I had booked an RV lot for the next six months.

The community was as clean and put together as the folks at Lazy Days promised. I backed the big rig in and got all hooked up, pushed all four slides slid out, and set the satellite connection. One of the lot boys from Lazy Days rolled up with my Escalade and was picked up by his partner, which gave me wheels to head out and go in search of a grocery store to get my shopping done.

Once the fridge was provisioned and I was satisfied that I had done all I intended to do for the day, I hit State Highway Forty-One and found a mom and pop Italian restaurant where I spent hours enjoying the food and ambiance. My waitress was very young, obviously the daughter of the owners, and extremely good at her job. I tipped her twenty bucks for the good job, and headed to my home sated and relaxed. It was my hope that my sleep wouldn’t be hijacked by the death demon, but that was not to be.

I hadn’t been asleep very long when death came to steal my dreams. My body was jerked from the bed and catapulted through space and time, to the dark, frightening, hateful place of the dead. It was brutally cold instead of torturously hot. The fires still burned and the embers still floated through the stale, filthy air. When I inhaled I still smelled the stench of death.

The demon death came for me with a sickle fashioned out of fillings torn from the mouths of the dead. The blade looked to be as lethal as anything ever forged, and death looked like he knew how to use it.

When I looked around for something to use to defend myself, I saw a sword.

The sword was alive.

It shimmered in the freezing chamber where the dead resided. The light sparkled off of its brilliant finish in every direction. When I reached for the sword to face down death, I saw the blade levitate off the burning ground, and then turn three-hundred and sixty degrees so that all the ghouls, demons, ghosts and haunts of hell could enjoy its beauty. The light shattering the night from the blade seemed to make every one of the underworld creatures shrink in on themselves. It was a wonderful sight, not scary, or violent ... well ... at least not to me.

When death roared his hatred at me, and charged, leading his horde of disgusting demons, the sword appeared in my hand and seemed to work its magic without my help. All around me the ectoplasmic essence of demons exploded in a fine mist as the sword slashed through the demonic bodies. The screams I heard, uttered from the mouths of death’s minions, were frightening enough to stop my heart, but the sword seemed to know its task, and was only using me as an example to the demon.

All at once I felt the tear of my skin as death’s demons closed in for the kill. I spun to face my attacker, but my sword did the honors, dispatching their evil selves to eternal damnation. Temporarily safe ... safer ... I suppose, gave me a chance to think about my wound. Death tore at my body, yet I stood strong and fierce as the sword moved me to destroy the demons. The blood drawn by the talons of death seeped beneath my shirt, as I struggled to fight on.

For eons we –the sword and me - fought the legions of the damned, until there was literally, none left. The landscape became a newly occupied graveyard for the devils of hell and their ilk. The sword smoothly slid from my hand, hovered over the fields of death, and then seemed to bow to me, before disappearing.

I stood alone in the center of a vast plain of death. The demons were gone. Only the barest hint of their bodies remained. Their remains littered the battlefield looking like abandoned cloaks. A cloak, once removed had no form, just like what was left of my tormenters.

In the distance I heard the saddest melody. It brought tears to my very soul, even as my heart twisted in unison with the song that played in the place of the dead. The notes themselves seemed alive as they caressed my face and slithered into my head. For as long as live, I knew I’d never be free of that soulful sound. It would live inside me forever, no matter where I went, what I did, or how long I lived.

The universe seemed to be in no hurry to transport me home, as I stood among the remnants of hell for so long that the frozen air became warm. The fires of the underworld were once more free to heat the ground around them, and I could feel warmth seeping in to my joints.

Love seeped along the ground. I could feel its tendrils touching my feet. In the place of no light and no hope, Love broke down the veil of sorrow and brought the light with it. The arms of Love wrapped me in its embrace. My entire being was suddenly filled with love to overflowing.