Tales of Endings: Book 1 The Spectacle

By Mason Demichilis

Jackson Curtis is a nineteen-year-old drifter roaming throughout California, aided by Nicolai Pelinovsky, a possible "more-than-friend" and creature of myth. They are pulled from the routines of life in Eden when a threatening note is delivered to their hotel. Jackson is already on death's door, but can he stay alive long enough to save the day?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662428128

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Tales of Endings

Book 1 The Spectacle

Mason Demichilis

Copyright © 2022 Mason Demichilis

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-2811-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-2812-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Letter

The Ripper

The Scout

The Scarlett Webb

The Train Car to Endings

The LEC

The Woman in Charge

The Dog Tags

The Darkness in the Valley

The Most Peculiar Thing

The Gunman Files

The Letter Reprise

The Patrolmen

The Patrolmen Part Deux

The Name

The Thunderbird

The Picture Show

The Camera

The World Isn't Black-and-White

The Reflection and the Print

The Vivid Vague

The Repertoire

The Expertise

The Evidence

The Witch

The Results Are In

The Medicine

The Puppets Are Coming

The Paper Topples the Stone

The Mousetraps

The Blue Midway

The Sidelines

The Clock Stops Ticking

Epilogue

Final Note

About the Author

To my friends and enemies, you know who you are.

The Letter

Dear Nicolai,

I saw you up at the store just the other day, the Dollar Store on El Cajon Boulevard, if I'm not mistaken. I've sent you this box of cigarettes. I happened to be at the smoke shop when you came in and asked for the location of a dispensary and noticed you were carrying someone's medical card when you asked. Consider this a medical donation. Just remember, I'm still around, and I'm not going anywhere.

Sincerely, an old friend.

He had near black hair that he kept short and to one side, one eye uncovered with dark green irises, one eye covered by a patch I bought him shortly after an accident. I remained in the seat beside him, in an old truck we pulled out of a junkyard for cheap and kept my eyes on him the whole way up. Sure, every once in a while I'd lean towards the window and take in the sights but, he was more important to me.

Nicky, how much longer until we get there? I asked. We passed the turn-off towards Mission Valley 30 minutes ago. Normally I wouldn't question his sense of direction, but my feet were starting to shake and my legs were uncomfortable having to move so often to keep blood flowing. Come on, you said it'd only be a half hour and that was two hours ago.

I did say that didn't I? He smirked. Don't worry, we're almost at the hotel.

You mean Motel, I replied.

He took a sharp right turn onto the next highway that took us through a campus town setting before we reached the neighborhoods just past it. Once we reached the boulevard, we passed smoke shops, convenience stores, strip clubs, bars and pool halls. The whole boulevard was dim yellow streetlights and neon shop signs.

Yep, he answered, Motel. But, we were going for cheap.

Nicolai and I had pulled up to it on a Saturday morning about two weeks before my nineteenth birthday. It was raining, and the neon lights on the retro sign just a few feet away from the entrance glitched off and on. The parking lot wasn't all gray concrete either. There were stains from where several people had probably dumped their garbage, sodas, and all kinds of things. The walls on the outside were light blue and covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.

As I sat in the passenger seat, admiring the swimming pool that'd been half filled just opposite of the parking lot, I thought only one thing, Why on earth did we come here?

Nicolai patted me on the shoulder and shot me a smirk.

I know it's not exactly the Bellagio, but it'll do for now.

I rubbed my eyes and took a closer squint at it through the windshield.

What the hell am I even looking at?

Oh come on, maybe it's not as bad as it looks. Nicolai pleaded. At first sight, this place looked pretty bad. An even longer observation brought me to the conclusion that this place was potentially dangerous.

At least we didn't have to sell Ripper. I answered, pointing at the back of the truck through the back window. My motorcycle might've been the only nice thing we had. Date nights would suck without it.

I scooped up a few items in my bag, digging for my phone that hid in the bottom of it. Despite the weather and the grimy motel, there was something photogenic here. He looked weary, bowing his head and avoiding eye contact.

How are you feeling? He asked, wrapping his arm around me shortly after I took a picture of the two of us. He'd only turned when he heard the camera click. I'm not even facing the camera.

I know. To answer your question though, I'm fine. I was still very sick. I'd been stage four for a long time, aware of that fact—I accepted that these moments were going to be important to me. Also, that he would be in my personal space a lot more.

Not like I never got in his business either, What about you? Are you still having those weird dreams?

I don't sleep, Jack. They aren't dreams. He answered.

Right, he was an extreme insomniac. I didn't know if it had to do with a disease, or if it was just part of him. I'd known for a long time now that since the accident that cost him his eye, he hadn't really been the same. He'd always been without sleep, but those dreams came shortly after he lost his eye. Calling them night terrors seemed technically incorrect. Fine, hallucinations. I paused. So what's with the hallucinations anyway?

I gripped onto the seat of the truck tightly. He huffed, Don't call them that.

No drugs? I asked.

No drugs. He responded. I'd take him on his word. Nicolai and I were no strangers to substances but after an accident of my own that left my legs a bit scarred from searing them on asphalt—we made a sobriety pact. Sometimes, I did wonder if those days had something to do with them—but Nicolai continued having those recurring terrors long after we'd stopped.

I shook it off. We could trust each other, no sense pestering him. Alright. We're good?

We're doing good. He answered. He laid his back against the driver's seat and we watched the rain on the windshield, What should we eat?

I'd already decided on a place and started ordering. A couple blocks down the road near the campus areas, there was a sushi bar. We got out of the car and while I searched the online menu, I followed Nicolai into the building.

Jackson, he said, did you lock the passenger door?

Yes.

Once we got inside, we quickly unpacked everything we needed. The room had a red theme, as opposed to the blue colors on the outside. The Cloud Inn was a very contradictory place it seemed. The inside of this room looked like the inside of a Sleep Inn or a Ramada. It wasn't the same withering dump on the inside as it was outside, that was for sure. Once Nicolai set his stuff down on his bed, I turned on the TV and started watching reruns. A half hour passed and Nicolai rejoined me on my bed.

What episode is this?

Reincarnation, I replied, finally finding a pack of peppered beef jerky in the bottom of my backpack. I took out a couple of pieces and handed them to Nicky, which he gladly accepted with a smile.

What was that one episode where they go to this one planet full of robots?

I think it may be more than one episode, he answered as he lay back in my bed.

Why do you do this? I laughed.

What do you mean?

You keep lying in my bed. Can't you lie down on your own? I asked as he sat up and threw his arm around my shoulders. His skin was damp and his eye was lighter in color. I smiled and leaned into him just a little, You wanna go dry off on your own bed?

No. He answered.

Gotta be in mine then?

You act like you're bothered by it. He grinned at me, holding onto me by the side at first. His eyes were a lighter color, something soft and approachable. My face warmed up, I could tell my cheeks were bright red. He neither frowned or smiled, instead he looked moments away from speaking. His sharp fangs barely hidden behind his lips. Sometimes, I could see his eyes darken…that could mean several things. His physical attributes were toned a little grayer.

I observed them, a little closer and he turned away quickly. Nicolai was assured he wasn't human anymore. Not since his eye color could change so easily, not since he gained impossible invulnerability and strength. It was like he became something else after he was shot in the eye; something he didn't show me of his own will. Are you having one of those dreams again?

They're not dreams.

Sorry, guess they're not hallucinations either, I paused, Memories?

He didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he settled on turning off the tv and moving in just a little closer. He used me as an anchor to keep the two of us on the bed for the moment, but this action urged me to lay back. Without returning to the conversation, he said, You don't mind me being this close, do you? I froze up.

I wrapped my arms around his midsection, resting my hands on his back. Nicky, what are you doing? Answer me. I pressed my fingers into his skin, my breath hitched when I spoke, and my heart raced. I shook underneath him, every nerve in my body vibrating at high frequency, screaming for me to act. My back hit the mattress and Nicolai looked down at me.

He looked flustered; there was a pink hue on his cheeks and I heard him breathing—just as rapid and as anxiously as mine. This feeling was overwhelming; my desire to take in this moment and enjoy it. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. He was soft, warm, and every stroke of that texture brought him closer to me.

Once he was close enough, he said, I wanted to tell you something.

Oh no.

His whole body weight rested in my lap and I'd gotten louder. Unable to speak, but still able to whimper and hyperventilate underneath him. His anxious energy faded, as his chest fell against mine. His heart was beating against mine, he was warm and inviting, like a blanket laying over the top of me. There was no calming down now and I could tell he enjoyed this. What is it? What did you want to tell me! I writhed underneath him while he lazily shifted back and forth on my hips. This was agony, he was always such a tease at first.

He pushed back against the mattress and now leaned over the top of me, I'd moved his patch enough to see a little red glow from underneath it. When I messed with his hair, I caught the string and moved the fabric just enough that it was visible. He couldn't see out of it. If he could, he'd know it moved. Despite his scarring, I was still powerless in my adoration of his features.

His eyes were a little less dark and his expression felt focused. Your eyes are beautiful, he said. Adorable, blue and green. He did have a strange appreciation for my heterochromia.

That's not it. I continued, Is this about your memories?

He shook his head and took a deep breath. His voice sounded strained when he spoke, as if choking on his own words. It was cute. Absent-mindedly, I started to trace the curves of his body with my hands, pressing down where I knew I'd get a rise out of him. This was a chance to find what made him tick, what might get him to lose it and just act on this moment without hesitating—without teasing.

You're right, that's not all I have to say.

You're stalling.

He pushed me up against the headboard to a reclining position, then held onto me by the sides of my face. He was gentle to start, but he held a little tighter when he went in for a kiss. I jolted, tightening my grip on him and moving erratically. I kept him close to me, reaching up to his neck to keep him still while I calmed down and embraced this. Once he pulled away, I stared into his eyes, amazed.

He took in a deep breath and stayed close. Then…he said the words. The ones that strangely felt so out of place now. He'd been different for a while, struggling to speak to me, or even keep tabs like he used to. He was still protective and still treated me as the most important thing in his life. But lately, he'd flip-flop from being cold and distant, to warm, loving, and affectionate. Most days, it depended on his memories.

How could he say he loved me, when he couldn't trust me enough to tell me what he was seeing in those horrible visions. I sunk into the mattress and detached from the moment, No, you don't. I answered. Which felt cruel to say—but I couldn't change my answer now.

He lay down beside me and looked up at the ceiling with me. He stopped shortly after starting every sentence. I reached for him and he got up from the bed and dug for something in his pockets. Shortly after obtaining his lighter he went for the door and walked outside onto the balcony, clearly needing some time to himself.

Hours passed in silence. Neither of us having the nerve to speak to each other since the moment I cut our night short. I slumped back on the headboard of the bed and knocked the back of my head into it repeatedly for a minute, I'm so fucking stupid. Why the fuck did I just say that to him? His stuff was still on the other bed. It wasn't like he walked out on me over it.

But he didn't come back in. Even when bright flashes of light and the sound of thunder occupied the space outside. I moved the curtains on the window, watching him while he sat up against the wall, flicking his cigarette while on the phone.

His eyes were grey color, just like the stormclouds above him. He remained out of the rains reach, but not even the cold could budge him from that spot. I sat back down on the end of the bed and huffed, Nicky I'm sorry, please come back in. I muttered. Maybe you do mean it.

Another hour passed in this dimly lit room and suddenly, the door flew wide open. He'd come in from outside with red in his eyes. His whole demeanor changed from heartbroken to terrified. Once he was indoors he gripped onto the dresser and pulled it in front of the door. Shortly after which he closed the blinds and started to pack up all of our things, Jack, I need you to stay put. Do you understand? Don't move, don't touch the blinds, do not unlock the door!

What the hell is happening? I asked.

We're on lockdown until morning do you understand? He had something in his pocket. An envelope with a plain red wax seal. I'd seen them before and every time we'd seen one, we always locked the doors and turned off the lights in the place we were staying, but we never took to drastic measures such as vacating the premises.

Nicolai you need to tell me what's going on.

He handed me the letter and continued digging around in his duffel bag. Eventually he found his gun, a personalized pistol with the words ‘Ol' Red Eye' carved on the chamber. I'll keep a lookout until morning, but when I wake you up you better get ready to get the hell out of here alright?

I nodded. Upon opening the envelope, I found something sinister. The source of this panic was well founded for sure. It read, ‘Dear Nicolai, I see you found a new one, with white hair and strange eyes. Looks familiar. So familiar in fact it's like looking at a living picture. I'd congratulate you but I think I've held out on this meeting long enough. So how about you come and meet me in Saint Tolrian Valley. I've provided two train tickets. You come alone or I kill you both. You come on time, or I track the two of you down. I'm sorry for this harsh and abrupt shift in tone from the past two years of letters. But you're starting to catch on aren't you? So I need to change the game to keep it entertaining. Remember, you have a choice here…life or death. Choose wisely.—Sincerely, an old friend.'

The Ripper

Dear Nicolai,

There's a stop outside of Mission Valley, a mall complex just off the University Route to Argosy. I saw you there not too long ago in the parking lot walking up to the closest bar in tattered-up shoes. The last time I saw you, those shoes were new, but you still wear that same color every time I see you. You have the same haircut you did in the twenties, you still have no real home, and you still have that accent no matter how long you've been in the United States. You may not have seen me, but I consider myself a kind-enough person to send you these boots. I'm still here. Nothing has changed, not even you.

Sincerely, an old friend.

After receiving the letter, Nicolai kept watch on the door for a couple hours. We didn't speak much over that time. A while later I laid down and fell asleep, keeping my feet pressed against his back, just to make sure he hadn't left. I awoke when I could no longer feel him at the end of the bed. He'd been perched there with his gun aimed at the door all night, but when I jolted up from the bed he was nowhere to be found.

His duffel bag was still packed and on the bed. The sound of an engine roaring sounded off nearby. This familiar sound belonged to something irreplaceable. I dove for the door and sprinted out onto the balcony, leaning over the railing as an unmistakable figure sat upon my motorcycle and took off down the roar with it.

OH YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I shouted, diving back into the room for just a minute before grabbing my own gun and aiming it directly at the back wheel of The Ripper. My blood boiled as I aimed my six shooter at a moving vehicle. Come back here! You son of a bitch, you get back here right now!

The farther he got, the harder I ran, taking leaps and bounds over broken bottles in the sidewalk, tossed-over garbage cans, and broken fencing lining the sidewalks down the streets.

I came to a standstill and shot at the bike, blowing out the back tire and fishtailing the bike. It swerved around completely and skidded down the road toward me. A few steps, and I was out of the way, but when it finally crashed, it threw him off the bike a few feet in front of me. My whole body froze as he remained suspended in mid-air for about 5 seconds, finally meeting the ground when he biffed his head off the curb. Oh shit. I panicked, sprinting towards him. Nicky! Are you okay? Nicky, answer me!

Each step toward him made my legs weaker. A still body lay on the pavement for a moment, as I got nearer, he started to move. The leg he'd twisted upon impact had snapped back into place, and I could see him pushing himself up from the cement with his elbows. He was all right. His face was still obscured by my helmet, something I would never let him steal even if he had a good explanation.

I stood upright as he got up on both his feet and stood still in front of me, as if daring me to come any closer. He put his hands up to the helmet and took it off, shaking his hair out of his eyes and rubbing at the space where his forehead had burst open on impact. His eyes were a dark color, but they weren't red. He wasn't angry; rather, he looked guilty.

Jackson, I can explain.

Then explain! I shouted. Waiting for an answer. When I didn't get one immediately I shouted, "What the fuck was that back there? You love me? I knew it was bullshit!"

That's not it! He shouted. My body froze and the features of my face stiffened.

Really? What, were you just taking a cruise to the gas station? Grabbing some donuts or something? Oh, fuck you, dude. I picked up the closest thing in my reach and launched it at him, scuffing him across the jaw. You could've taken the truck, asshole!

Jack I need to be in St. Tory in twelve hours. I'll meet our stalker, deal with them, and then I'll come back for you. He paused, while I grabbed more ammunition, You can't come with me. You could get hurt!

I continued throwing things at him, mostly rocks and empty cans. He tried walking closer to me, but I kept going. Who on earth did he think he was? So? You tried to steal my bike! I chucked everything I had at him, Worse, you were gonna go off and get yourself killed! What the hell is your problem? The gap closed between us, and when I'd run out of things to throw, I finally wound up and threw a haymaker right at his chin. He wobbled backward a couple steps then steadied himself. "You taught me to fight, you think I'd let you go off to die by yourself? With my stuff?"

That's enough! He screamed. When he finally steadied completely his eyes were red and his teeth were a little sharper. It'd only been a second since I landed a punch on him and without a second thought he swiped at me and threw me back into the concrete. There was a horrible warped tone in his voice before he did that and once I hit the pavement my arm pounded onto some glass that embedded into my skin. I screamed and worriedly placed my hand over the top of the glass, not pressing down. His eyes were still red for a moment, before they cleared suddenly. He sprung at me, Jackson, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry.

He wasn't himself before then. But it reminded me, I could stand a small chance against a non-human. I grinned and forcefully drove my mind away from the pain. Admit I got you. I may not be able to kick your ass just yet, but I got you! Every word was strained, but I couldn't let him panic. I couldn't stand seeing him like that.

Jack let me fix it.

No! Admit I got you first.

Never! He yelled, even as I clung onto his arm with my only good arm. Now you let me go! I will not leave you, not forever! I promise I'll come back but if you come with me, you will die!

I grit my teeth and clenched my hands tighter, I don't care!

A few seconds later, my grip went to his shirt, which I used to throw him to my side while I straddled him and kept him pinned to the ground. My full weight kept him pinned to the cold wet pavement underneath the two of us.

Get off me!

Not until you admit I got you. I'm not quitting until I win! So admit defeat! I demanded. He took in a deep breath, laying his arms down at his side and laying his head back. Everything was quiet now. When I received no suitable answer, I struck him in the chest one more time. Say it!

We'd never left each other's side, not since we were six. Everything we'd been through together, no matter what, we never split apart. Now, he had the audacity to run off without me. Rather than pack it up and move it out in the morning like he said he meant to leave me out. The night before, he said he loved me. I tried to think about what could've changed that in such a short amount of time.

You learned a lot of things, so quickly…but I can't let you go with me this time. This person, the one who sent the letter, intends on killing both of us if I don't go alone! He squirmed about underneath me, trying to stand up and buck me out of place.

I quickly retaliated and spread out to keep his arms and legs from moving. Eventually, it did occur to me that no matter what I did—he could still overpower me. I was sick, smaller than him, and significantly weaker. Not to mention his unfair advantage of being a literal non-human entity. He hadn't changed much on the inside—he still restrained himself in these times.

If you go, I go. My arm was bleeding