| “Randall,” Paige answered. “Where have you been? We’ve all been so worried and upset. The FBI is here.”
“No Paige, the FBI isn’t here. It’s just us.” Randall said in what could only be described as a sing-song ethereal voice. “But Randall, we found you here,” Paige said in anguish. “You were right here.” “I’m still here, Paige, and you’re here too,” Randall sang. “We’re both here and we’re just fine. “But wait,” Paige said. “What happened? Who did this to you? Randall, please, what’s happening?” Paige rubbed her forehead and with both hands and let them slide slowly down her face. “Paige,” Randall answered. “It’s all right. They just needed a pure heart. I’m safe now.” “No!” Paige called. “You aren’t safe. Randall?!” Randall floated just above the grass and hovered along side Paige. The hole seemed to breathe on its own and emanated a foul stench. “How is your rash?” Randall asked as he lifted Paige’s arm. “Oh, it’s nothing, just some allergy.” Paige answered as she puzzled over her fore arm. “No matter,” Randall said. “It will be gone soon.” Randall led Paige down the embankment to the water and sat at the edge of the spillway. “Randall, what is this?” Paige asked staring deeply into the green eyes. “I mean, what is all this? What is going on?” “Paige, you need to go to your house.” Randall said. “You need to go now. You are so pure and good, you don’t need to be here.” Paige wondered for a moment why she couldn’t stay. She wanted more than anything to stay there with Randall; to talk with him; find out what had happened. “Paige, please,” Randall urged. “You have to go now. Go to your house. Hurry.” Paige rubbed her head once more, but when she put her hands back down, Randall was gone. “Randall?” Paige called. “Randall, wait!” Randall was not there. Paige stood up and the grogginess was gone as if nothing had happened at all. The mist was still light in the air, but Paige didn’t seem to notice it any longer. She heard rustling behind her near the mill. She wasn’t sure why, but she became very frightened and hid behind one of the Mulberrys beside the spillway. She waited completely still and quiet. Clarke and several other FBI agents came around the mill. The mist had vanished around them and Paige could see they were talking, but it was all inaudible. They seemed to be looking at the ground, searching for something. Didn’t they know Randall wasn’t gone? He had just been there. They had been so wrong! Paige scooted backwards and hurriedly headed for the other side of campus to her house. As if she just blinked, she was home. The hissing from her kitchen was gone. All the lights were on and were shining more brightly than Paige recalled. “Paige,” Randall’s voice called. “Paige come to the study.” Paige rubbed her arm and saw that the rash was now past her collar bone and working its way up her neck. It seemed to move as she watched it. It was no longer the itchy red rash it had been before, but a peach-colored pattern of lines ending in swirling curlicues. The lines seemed to breathe on their own and almost seemed to be urging Paige up stairs to her loft. “Paige,” Randall called again. “Paige, Paige” he sang. Paige passed the blinding hall lights to the stairs and hurried up to her loft. The light was much dimmer now and she looked around for Randall. “Randall,” Paige called out. “Randall, here I am. Please come talk to me.” Paige felt a slight breeze coming from the study’s window. As she turned to see the open window, a dark figure loomed in. Paige couldn’t see a face or form, just a dark shadow. On the other side of the figure was Randall, just as he appeared at the spillway. He was hovering with the gaping hole in his chest almost pulsating and his green eyes dancing in their very sockets. “You are the pure one,” the figure whispered. “You are the pure of heart.” Paige felt the rash tickling her neck and invading her tissue. Her throat constricted and she gasped for the air to speak, but no voice would come. Randall just smiled at her. “Now!” the figure hissed. Paige felt her blouse fall from her shoulders and her skin separate from the bone. Her neck craned back as she was lifted off the floor. She seemed to be floating in suspension by some unseen arm. Paige felt blood warm and slick grow from a titillating trickle to a flow down her stomach and legs. She felt her ribs crack open and separate from her breast plate. She felt pressure, but no pain. Her flesh sloughed off from around her ribs and Paige could here it splash into the pooling blood below her feet. The dark figure moved in close. Paige looked up into the void where the space should have been and saw dancing green eyes like Randall’s. She felt her insides liquefying as the figure pulled her heart from her chest, tendons and connective tissue gripping as her heart left her body. The rash escaped her skin and now clung to her heart wrapping itself around and around it imbedding itself in the muscle. The figure stepped back and placed the heart in a hidden pocket of his dark cloak. “Randall,” Paige sang. Randall smiled at Paige and vanished through the open window. A breeze came around the figure and entered what was now a growing hole in Paige’s chest. It whirled around the tissue and bone dancing through the open cavity and seemed to exit through Paige’s pores. “Come, Paige,” the figure whispered. “We have more work before Harvest. |