My Friend

By Rick McQuiston

It all started the day he found the stone.

Jimmy and me were best friends. The Two Musketeers. Brothers from different parents. A couple peas in a pod. He was the funny man and I was the straight man. He would act on impulse and I would analyze everything first.

Looking back now, I suppose that probably saved my life.

A heavy noise rang through the barren trees. Twisted branches resembling skeletal fingers swayed in the acrid breeze, only slightly illuminated despite the Sun blazing in the heavens. But the Earth's giver of life offered no real warmth. It simply hung in the sky, a bright globe that may as well have been in a painting.

Tossing the tin of baked beans aside in disgust, I leaned my head back against the tree stump. The wood had rotted to the point of becoming dust, hardly sustaining my weight. I was hungry (not that a long-expired can of beans would have sated that hunger), and after slicing my finger on the metal container I gave up on it.

“I'll find some berries, or maybe get lucky and catch a rabbit.”

My words did little to ease my mind though, and even less to fill my stomach.

But my gnawing hunger was not the worst of my problems. Nor was my loneliness, or my fear of the unknown.

I glanced down at my finger as if it were a venomous snake. The absurdity of being afraid of my own body was not lost on me, and that alone scared me more than anything. Losing my sanity would mean losing the one thing I had left.

I picked up a soggy leaf and wrapped it around my finger, and at once it became sodden with a thin green fluid: my blood.

This didn't surprise me however. Over the past few months nothing surprised me anymore. I suppose in a way I've become desensitized to everything.

Realizing that I needed something better for my wound I tore a piece of my shirt off to use as a bandage.

It didn't help much.

Movement caught my eye.

Off to my left, about a dozen or so yards away, a squirrel, a scrawny-looking brown thing, was scavenging through the brush. Its beady eyes rapidly gyrated within their sockets, keenly aware of all, nervously ready to send signals to the rodent's brain if any potential danger was detected.

I leaned forward in my tree-stump chair and watched the little beast. It didn't seem to notice me, instead focusing on finding food.

I used this mistake to my advantage.

I slowly raised my hand, the one with the cut finger, and pointed said digit at the animal. A thin tentacle with no more girth than a human hair shot out of the wound with lightening speed , impaling it like a stuck pig. And it squealed like a pig too, its cries of pain and shock quickly cut off as the appendage acclimated its body to my control.

It turned toward me, any sign of hesitancy or fear on its twitching face gone.

I then pulled it in like I was fishing. The expression on its tiny face was unchanged as it was gradually moving toward its doom. It was oblivious to its own demise.

And then I surprised myself. I swung my other hand over and snipped the tentacle with my fingers. Red-hot pain soared through my body, searing every fiber of my being with its iron grip.

But I persisted, closing my eyes and clenching my teeth to keep from crying out.

I heard the squirrel scamper away through the brush.

This was all Jimmy's fault. He'd done this to me. He'd done this to the world, turning it into a weird mockery of its former beauty. He was my friend once, but now I knew I'd have to confront him.

I waited a few minutes for the worst of the pain to subside and then hoisted myself to my feet. It took all my strength but after I oriented myself I felt capable enough to walk.

The forest impeded my every step, brushing against my body everywhere it could, and I soon realized that it was trying to. He was doing it, although probably indirectly, subconsciously even.

It was Jimmy, I knew it was.

I trudged forward. My body no longer hurt, the wound on my finger having healed already, and my mind was sharp and clear. The Sun still blazed in the sky, periodically sneaking its light through the trees.

It felt cold on my skin.

A stiff breeze slapped my face with each step I took. It had a rancid odor, like decaying meat, but I ignored it. Occasionally, I shielded my face with my hand, although it was thin protection from the force and stench of the wind

I was going to find Jimmy no matter what.

More than once I felt something scuttle across my feet as I made my way across the barren landscape. I avoided looking down though; I harbored a deep-seated fear of spiders. Hunger did its best to remind me of the implications of ignoring it, and my finger was starting to ache something terrible again, as well as most of my body. I saw things crawl in the brush, through the fallen leaves, across the spindly branches high above, but couldn't tell what they were, and for that I was grateful. Ignorance is bliss I used to say, and in my situation it was true.

I carried on, ignoring the best I could any movement I saw. Once, I noticed something with blue fur and too many legs to count, scurry across a fallen tree, its innumerable limbs in unsettling synchronization, although that did nothing to hinder its ability to glide along the moss-laden log.

It used to be a muskrat.

The thought just popped into my head. I knew right away it was true, but was still surprised by its suddenness.

Again, it was Jimmy. He was responsible for every anomaly, every distortion, every nightmare.

At last, after seemingly endless miles (as well as a host of frightening creatures that defied classification) I reached what I believed to be my destination: a huge, hollowed out cove nestled in a large hill. The depression was set into the earth in an obvious manner, easily betraying any notion that it was a creation of God.

I stopped in my tracks and glared at it. Dead trees lined the faint path leading up to it, further adding to its dark mystery. There was no movement nearby other than the stale breeze swaying said trees in a mockery of life.

In short, nothing lived near it.

That notion had wormed its way into my brain without invitation. In a way, I welcomed it. It seemed to give me some type of peace, as if the peace of death and emptiness gave me protection from fates far worse.

I decided then and there to enter the cove. Jimmy was there, I was sure of it, and the only way to confront him was to go into the unknown.

I slipped into the cove with little difficulty, ignoring the sodden lichen which dangled from above. My steps were shallow, and although I managed to avoid the numerous puddles of greenish liquid that littered the ground, I still felt as if my feet were wet. I didn't want to touch anything I didn't have to.

I decided to call out. I knew Jimmy was there but still wasn't sure if it was a good idea. After all, someone, or something might hear me and attack.

“Jimmy?” I said with a tone between normal conversational volume and a loud whisper, the latter sneaking into my voice without my consent. “Are you here?”

There was no reply other than the maddening dripping of stagnant water onto the cave floor.

I pressed on. Horrible images of bizarre creatures danced in my head, the strange concoctions of venomous, multi-legged abominations skirting across the rock-strewn cave floor nearly causing me to simply turn around and head back to the relative safety of the outside world.

But what would I go back to? Surely not a normal one. Jimmy had seen to that.

Every step I took felt as if I were wallowing in cold mud. My body pulsed with alarming mini-spasms, each and every one making me acutely aware of its presence.

But still, I moved along.

And then I saw it: a tiny pinprick of light, a small yet distinct and unwavering dot of bright illumination situated at the end of a winding corridor of otherwise total blackness.

Although unwavering is not correct to say. The more I studied it the more I realized that it was in fact flickering like the faint light of a distant star in the heavens.

I immediately started to walk toward it. I was unaware of or simply didn't care about the increasing darkness all around me. Which, I don't know. What I did however was that nothing in the mixed-up world Earth had become was going to stop me.

I moved forward om shaky legs, occasionally bumping into a wall or stumbling over a stone. My feet felt like lead but didn't hinder my progress. Occasionally I heard something scurry across the ground nearby, but thankfully there wasn't enough light for me to see anything. And once, I sensed something overhead, something very large, something whose sheer bulk affected the air around it.

I shuddered at the thought and forced myself to move on, urging my legs toward the light.

As I went deeper and deeper into the cave I could literally feel my energy, my breath, my very life essence seeping out of my body. But I didn't stop, continuing on toward the light, wholly intent on finding my old friend and righting all the wrongs I knew he was responsible for.

The light gradually increased in size and intensity as I trudged toward it. Its center oscillated like a churning maelstrom, alive somehow with potent energy that was difficult to look away from. It drew me in and refused to let me go, promising vast realms of paradise to all who dared to brave its wonders.

I snapped out of my trance. I needed to be alert and aware of my situation if I wanted to succeed with my mission.

A random thought then popped into my head. I didn't resist it, instead letting it settle in my consciousness as my awareness studied it.

A bottle, a prescription bottle actually that was full to its plastic safety cap with little blue pills. The label was decorated with stamped words and numbers, most of which I couldn't discern.

I was, however, able to make out one word: Doxepin.

If my memory served me correctly it was an antidepressant drug used to treat Dissociative Identity Disorder.

I inched closer and closer to the light, ignoring the various horrors scurrying around my feet and swinging from the ceiling. Some were small (no larger than ants) while others, despite the relative darkness surrounding me, I could tell were much larger (as big as ponies -- at least a few hundred pounds worth).

The light beckoned me forward. Its enticing glow bathed any reservations I harbored in unbearable peace, so much so that all the misery the world had become faded into insignificance.

I continued making my way toward it.

A sharp jab in my shoulder hindered my progress, as did the subsequent attacks (bites, at my feet and legs, pokes at the back of my head, a stinging pain across my back, etc), but I ignored them. I'd come too far and there was too much at stake to stop. I had to reach my friend and put a stop to the madness.

As I drew nearer to the light I could feel the chill radiating from it, like an icicle being pushed through snow: two states of cold, each similar and yet different.

And then, at long last, I finally reached my destination. I was cold, scared, and tired, but none of that mattered. I was certain Jimmy was in that light somehow, and I would find him and fix the world.

An image of the prescription bottle floated back into my head: Doxepin, the little blue pills, the white cap, and everything that went along with it.

“Jimmy? I'm here! Come out and show yourself!”

It only took a few seconds until I was answered.

“Yes. I'm here.”

I trudged forward on shaky legs. Something bit my ankle, sending a needle-thin stream of pain up my leg, but I ignored it. Something latched onto my shoulder, something furry and malleable; when I swatted it away it felt like an overripe orange.

The light faded just as a face began to materialize.

Jimmy stared back at me for a few seconds before he slipped into the oblivion of the darkness. Something sprouting from my forehead.

I felt something really odd then: Something sprouting from my forehead. I could feel the skin part, opening like a blooming flower, to reveal a dark orb, a grotesque ball of jet-black, absolute in its shade and purpose.

The eye opened.

I could see clearly now, possibly for the first time in my life, and I scanned my surroundings.

There was nothing to see other than the cold walls of the cave, the stagnant pools of water, the scattered stones, and of course my own cool breath streaming from my mouth in foggy plumes.

I focused my attention on the task at hand. I didn't see the light anymore but knew my only option was to go toward where it had been. I fought off the random thoughts in my head (bizarre images of other worlds, even stranger, more frightening than the one I lived on) and tried to concentrate on finding Jimmy.

“You need to stop this!” I shouted, surprised at my own resolve. “The world needs to be like it was before!”

“I can't,” the disembodied voice replied. You won't let me. None of you will.”

The words puzzled me.

“When we came here they captured us almost right away, locking us up for study. We escaped though and were able to exact retribution on the planet.”

I felt sick.

“I was the only one who resisted revenge, but was overruled.”

I collapsed to the ground, my head spinning.

“I, however, am your only friend. You called me Jimmy in our youth, long before we arrived on this planet, and despite the drugs they gave us we managed to stay close.”

“Doxepin,” I whispered under my breath.

“Yes, one of many drugs to separate us from one another.”

A large worm, bloated and yet lithe enough to move with easy fluidity, slid across the ground directly in front of me. It bristled with goo-coated parasites and the unnatural undulation of its breathing.

I brushed it aside with my hand.

I understood now. I came to this planet an outcast, a sufferer of multiple personalities, and after being subjected to captivity and experiments, I unleashed my wrath on the world, transforming it into a reflection of my own planet. There never was a Jimmy, just a minor facet of my illness.

With the realization of my existence dawning on me I sat up on my haunches. The many parts of my mind, my personalities as the scientists put it, swirl in my head like leaves in a strong breeze, each jostling for prominence and recognition.

“We'll all be together now,” the voice said from the darkness.

“Yes, I know,” I replied and forced myself up on trembling legs. I could feel the horns on my head and back slicing through the flesh, spiraling out into the dank air of the cave. Fangs curved past my lips, drawing black blood. Paper-thin tendrils squirmed from my legs, tasting the darkness. Gills split my neck, cleaving the skin like hungry maws stretching for sustenance. Muscles, tendons, and bones softened, changing into gelatinous elasticity suitable for survival on my home planet.

I spun around, my head taking a few extra seconds to follow the motion of my body. I could still see the entrance to the cave: a tiny point of gray daylight similar to a distant star from Earth's surface, and started toward it. My natural form made it easy to move along, much easier than before. I wanted to be outside again. I wanted to see the world I had created. I had come in peace but the indigenous population of this planet didn't see it that way so I was forced to adapt things to my own liking.

“We're all together now,” the voice in my head whispered.

“Yes,” I replied. “Yes we are, my friend. Yes we are.”