Virus
“You didn’t think I’d see it? Or are you so desperate for my attention that you’re willing to do anything to get it.” I kept my hand firmly pressed upon the strange symbol, sharp and curving in equal parts, his symbol, one he’d tied his very soul to. One he’d stolen from me. “I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve been tampering with the mortal world, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question any longer. It was my symbol, stolen, carved into the world.
I knew you’d notice.
“Dammit, Cain.” I made a fist, striking the closet door next to me, rattling it, but it held even so, locked from the outside, a precautionary measure for any time I spoke with a spirit like Cain. “There are easier ways to do this, you know this! Stealing from me isn’t the answer. Nor, for the record, is destroying someone’s mind and soul to spread your psychosis across the globe. I don’t even know how you did it, all I know is that you did it.”
You’re not impressed?
“With what.” I felt ghostly hands touch the sides of my throat, just below my pulse points, and I resisted the urge to shudder, knowing he fed on my fear. “You manipulated another weak-minded person to your will?” Seeing the symbol he’d stolen from me posted on the web, on a growing social media platform, had shook me to my core, a testament to his control over his new host. To manipulate someone’s mind to the point of them writing millions of lines of code just to share your message was a deeper control than he’d ever shown, and it was terrifying. But I could never let him know that. “Do you really believe that a web developer who you can barely understand is going to be your gateway to a new world?”
I felt a cold hand press to my forehead, the vision overwhelming me. The symbol being drawn by millions, people who just thought it was a cool design, drawn over and over, new windows, doors for him to open. Doors that led to new, malleable hosts with easy-to-manipulate souls. The vision didn’t stop, him taking over the world, ripping through it like a virus, from person to person, killing everything in his path. “No.” I saw him, using hosts as weapons, tearing them apart, and when they became useless to him, leaving them to die.
“Scary vision, Cain, but I hope you don’t think it’ll work, let alone work quickly. I can stop this, you know. No, I know you know. I can bind the symbol to my soul instead of yours, something I should’ve done years ago.” I smiled, tracing the outline of the shape, a set of interlocking circles and triangles, almost creating letters, but not quite. A truly beautiful symbol, one I was happy to steal. Or, I would’ve been. If I could reach my soul magic, the magic needed to tie the symbol to my soul, the same magic he’d used to tie it to his own.
What’s wrong, Vera?
“What have you done,” I whispered, desperately trying to tap into my soul. Desperately trying to so much as feel my own soul within me.
It’s not your soul anymore, Vera. I felt his soul press into me, overtaking my body, as though I was completely powerless to fight. I sold it. Really, you should’ve known better than to touch my symbol. That’s as good as a contract in my world. Although, I have to say, I must thank you. Without your soul, I never would’ve been able to make this deal.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, a breaking news story. Read it. “No.” My hand moved of its own accord; my mind torn through in search of a password. My hand typed in my password, opening the news story. ‘Breaking: new social media platform known as Epidemic quickly becomes the most-downloaded visual media sharing app in history’ read the banner, my eyes barely scanning the remainder of the article before my hand shoved the phone back in my pocket, gently pressing against the door. It’s locked, you said? “Only opens if I say a code word.” It didn’t feel so secure now. Usually, my mind was safe from intrusion. Today, it clearly wasn’t. I still tried desperately to reach my soul, but the more I searched for it, the more I feared he was right, I no longer owned my own soul. Terror built in my gut as I felt my face curve into Cain’s cruel smile.
I’ll respect your privacy. I don’t think I’ll be needing the code, anyway. My hands balled into fists at my sides as I stood, slamming repeatedly into the solid wood. “Stop,” I begged, at the skin of my knuckles bruised and split. Tears streamed down my face as I felt the bone hit the cracking door, and I screamed as my knuckles fractured, broke apart, shattering as the door broke down. He wiped the blood over my face, my hand stinging with agony as the bone shifted out of place. “Please, Cain, please stop this.” I wasn’t above begging, my hands felt like they were on fire, and the smile stayed on my face. No. Did you stop my pain? When I burned in the depths of Hell, tortured by my own nightmares? You put me there, Vera. I won’t stop until you feel a fraction of the agony you made me feel. I couldn’t stop crying as he ripped away the shred of the door, splinters digging into my palms.
My friend had picked up a kitchen knife and a crucifix and held both in an attack position, her eyes wide with terror as my fingers dripped blood onto the carpet, flexing and spasming painfully, the smile never leaving my face. Face her, tell her to stand down comfort her for the last time, because in a few seconds, you’ll have to kill her. “Please, Cain, have mercy on me! Please! Don’t make me do this! Carrie, run, run anywhere, get away from him! Get away from me!” Touching. But not what I asked for. Cain’s control over me became clearer by the second, making it obvious that whatever I wanted was irrelevant, and I was lucky to still be able to speak of my own accord.
Adrenaline coursed through my body, my legs moving faster than they ever had to block Carrie from reaching the door, my damaged, fractured hand flexing agonizingly and curling around Carrie’s neck tightening despite the endless pain racing through my hands as the broken bones bent forcibly and took the full impact. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” I chanted, over and over, as though there was anything I could do to make this right.
Carrie’s body fell to the ground, dead by my hands. My broken, burning hands had killed the only person I could trust, the only person who truly cared about me. “Carrie!” I screamed, kneeling by her body. If I had stopped crying from the pain, I would’ve started again. Not quite there yet. Cain’s voice spoke in my mind again, disappointed. We still have a long way to go. It’s a shame, I really could’ve used her. That would’ve been fun, restrain you and make you watch your best friend like the Hell I’m putting you through before I turned around and did it to you. Oh, well, let’s let the dead rest. My body stood, the remaining blood in my body leaving my head. Cain glanced over my hands, still bleeding from the mangled fractures.
You’re not dying until I let you, Vera. He opened the desk drawers, finding a lighter and pressing the flame to the open wounds, cauterizing them, the sweet scent of charred flesh mingling with the metallic scent of the room. Any person given the luxury of falling unconscious would’ve, but something kept me awake through the searing pain, the adrenaline Cain forced my body to produce or his black magic, either way, I didn’t have the chance to evade the pain even for a second. It’s funny, you know, he continued as I fell to the ground, writhing in pain, I don’t feel any of this. I thought I would, living in this body, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt me, for whatever reason. He was so cavalier about this. As though it truly meant nothing to him. I would’ve been content to lie on the floor until the pain stopped, but Cain had other plans as I rose to my feet, picked up the knife where Cassie has dropped it, and walked out the front door.
I drew stares and whispers from those around me. The blood on my clothes, tears in my eyes, the scent of smoke, and the constant stream of nearly incomprehensible begging for mercy that fell from lips could get even the most unobservant person’s attention, not to mention my screams early having draws the ears of my neighborhood. I can use anyone here who’s drawn my symbol. You’ll kill the rest. Be grateful that so many people have drawn it. Useful… useful… could be useful to me later, we’ll see in a few years… him. Cain focused my eyes on an elderly man on the park bench. Kill him.
“Run, sir, you, old man on the bench, run!” I screamed, as my legs ran towards him, he sensed danger and ran, not fast enough, as my hands slammed the knife into his chest, over and over, glancing off bone and slicing into flesh. “Run! Everyone, please, run.” People scattered, those who had drawn closer recoiled and ran into their houses or up the street. My hand, the one not clutching the knife, grabbed my jaw and wrenched it to the side, the bones popping from the socket, grinding against each other as the knife slashed across my tongue. The taste of pure liquid metal dripped from my mouth, mingling with the blood of the old man as the light left his eyes, never able to beg for his life as my knife slashed through his lungs. My jaw set off sparks of pain, blinding me, filling my vision with a while haze.
Maybe now you won’t warn them. Your weakness, Vera, it’s disgusting. You’re my weapon now, what good are you if you can’t carry out orders? “I can’t see,” I tried to say, the pain of my jaw making me gasp, the blood on my tongue catching in my throat, choking me. I hacked the blood out of my lungs, barely supported on my hands and knees, by body threatening a collapse that quite honestly seemed like a chance at relief, my muscles burning as the worn-off adrenaline left my body, the pain of my jaw and band still raging. But there was no time, in Cain’s eyes, as I stood again, jumping, and landing sideways, snapping both ankles. I fell to the pavement hard
My vision had barely cleared before whiting out from pain. Do you see it? All the faces of people who belong to me now? Everyone, everyone who drew that symbol, everyone on the street who still lives. It won’t stop. They’ll all be mine, just like you are, and powerless to stop me. Just like you are.
Standing on my broken ankles was pain enough, but running down the street on them was indescribable, the gravel cutting into the bottom of my feet and lodging in the wounds around my ankles. A blur of pain made time seem to cut in and out, the ringing in my ears a substitute for the crunch of broken glass as I crashed through windows, drowning out the screams of those I slaughtered, my knife gone dull by striking ribs and skulls, glancing off bones and tearing veins. Cain was unrelenting, my body no longer able to take it, as I took life after life, seeing all of them fall, the light in their eyes burning out, as Cain declared them useless, no longer worthy of life. Cain’s voice was all I could hear, you heard them beg for their lives, Vera, she had a family, you know. It’s beautiful, how you’ve forgotten how to feel for them, so wrapped up in your own endless agony…
After jumping over a wall, my spine broke, twisting under me and snapping, pain that, if it hadn’t increased with every second, I would’ve been numb to. You’re useless to me, Vera. Cain didn’t make me stand again. You can’t move, even by force. I can’t use you anymore. A rusted, broken tool of mine. Maybe it’s time I put you out of your misery. “Thank you,” I tried to say, the words never leaving my mouth as my eyes glanced towards the knife. I’d never thought I’d beg for the mercy of death, but my pain was unending, with only one form of release. He laughed, ignoring the blade.
It won’t be so quick, Vera. Keep your eyes on me. Cain left my body, the energy he had going with him, more visible than I’d ever seen him, almost solid, my closeness to death revealed in his form. He pressed against someone oblivious, overtaking his body.
“Woah, what- hey, stop!” The man screamed and convulsed, scraping at his body as though Cain was some sort of spiderweb. The man walked over to me, becoming more like Cain with every step, his face losing all humanity and curving into the smile of a demon, with only the terrified eyes of a human staring back at me. “Please! Make it stop! Someone! Help me!” The man picked up the knife against his will, turning it on the nearest person with a scream of fear. With a final thought, the memory of those I’d killed and the guilt that raged in my soul, death claimed me, darkness seeping in from the sides of my vision.
I knew, somehow, that in the depths of Hell, I would see the aftermath, the virus that weeded out the only remaining good in the world, leaving only those Cain could control, a world of his own, to twist to his amusement, a sadistic god in a forsaken world. In death, I could only watch it unfold.
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Bio: Alex Finch is an American writer. They have two previous publications on The Yard, and have a love for anything dark and spooky.
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