Tabs — Part Three

June 2020 | Horror | 13,400 words

The silence of his car at rest hit him more than the shock of the collision. He screamed once, long and loud. His voice upturned into a laugh. He shouted himself down from his ridiculous barks of laughter—No! Stop! Not appropriate! It wasn’t funny. But how else could he react? His brain was swimming, peering through a fish-eye lens at the world around him. It would be easy to shake it off as a hallucination. So he tried. After all, there were no cars on the road at all when he was sober. Why would there be anyone outside now? And certainly not to drive with such suicidal recklessness.

Who is that?

It was Mitch. He was taking a hit from his vape. The blue light at the tip glowed like the first star of the evening.

David lumbered out of his car and jogged to him. He called out his name. “Where have you been?”

Mitch’s eyes were red. His face was molded into a plasticine scowl. One stark vein lurched on his forehead. “Sarah’s dead,” he said.

David frowned. “Stop it,” he said.

“Died in her sleep,” said Mitch. “Her mom just called me. Hell . . .” He clenched a fist and pounded his forehead. “My fucking head . . .”

“Have you taken any more acid since this morning?” asked David.

Mitch shot him a look. “Fuck no.”

“That’s the only way to stop it,” said David. “The headaches. They just keep coming.”

“I don’t care about the headaches!” said Mitch. His lip wobbled. “It’s the least I should have to face.” He took a puff. “I was gonna leave her, too. For what? Because she was too vanilla? Shit . . .”

David caught a glimpse of light bouncing off the building across the street. It nearly took him off the course of the conversation, but he pulled himself back in. “It’s not your fault,” said David. “Don’t blame yourself. She didn’t want to do those things, so, you know . . . forget her, really.”

Mitch took a puff. “She was an angel, and I took her for granted. A goddamn angel. The only good person I knew.”

He bunched his sweatshirt sleeve around his vape. David’s heart quickened as he remembered why he had driven to the apartment building. “That’s in the past, dude. You can’t change that. You gotta worry about this acid—”

Mitch ground his teeth. “I don’t like it,” he said, “being holed up in there with you guys. It’s all I’ve been seeing for the past four weeks—Garret trying to catch me when I walk out of the shower, Tom trying to lighten the mood with his bullshit attitude, you coming by to mooch off of us. All you three care about is yourselves. Ah—” He winced and took a puff. “It’s a rerun, you three over and over and over again. I can’t fucking stand it. Not even on LSD.”

David reeled. “I’ve been hurting, too.” He staggered back, started walking to his car before turning around. “I was gonna warn you! You call that only caring about myself? Asshole?”

Warn . . .

David gasped. He pinned the apartment building down with an unblinking stare as he marched toward it. He couldn’t let his goal

I have to warn them.

blast out of his attention. Three women tumbled out of the door before David got to it, so he was able to enter without pleading through the buzzer intercom. He didn’t know how upset Tom still was, whether David could explain everything he was processing, or (and he really suspected this) if Tom had dropped more acid since he last saw his deadly glare. Who knew what Tom would do or say?

He didn’t know what he himself would say. He didn’t know how to articulate his fear. Had everyone taken acid at the same time? Everyone in the city? Everyone in the world? And if they had, why had they? There’s no way everyone had David’s brain. He knew everyone was bored during quarantine, but the logistics of a mass drug trip were unthinkable.

For the first time, David wished his mom could call him. He would even welcome a call from his dad. His brain was rent in uneven sections of confusion and despair. How had he come to this point? What could he do? Who could help him?

Who would want to?

It was getting hard to breathe. David growled and blinked away his stupid tears.

Outside, the light was fading, but by the time he climbed to Tom’s floor, only street light shone through the hall windows. The sun was gone, and it was time for supper and bed. When David dropped acid a few months ago, he remembered feeling glowingly exhausted at this hour. It was like being drained but peaceful at the same time, and he enjoyed it. David had never chased a tab with another at the end of the come-down before, but he never suspected it would spike up his energy the way it did now. He felt impossibly wired. And the headache was coming back.

He tried the handle of the door before knocking, then ducked to make sure Tom didn’t spy him through the hole. When the door opened, it wasn’t Tom. It wasn’t MacKenzie or Garret. It was some girl David had never seen before. She smirked and widened the gap in the door, allowing David to see that she wasn’t the only one who had joined the party.

“Party” was now a more accurate description of what was inside Tom’s apartment. There were now at least 20 people rubbing elbows in the space. The furniture in the living room had been pushed to the sides, stacked against the walls. The empty space in the center of the room seemed to have been changed into something new: a stage, surrounded by concentric rings of diverse kneeling individuals. All were focused on the girl standing in the center of the stage. She closed her eyes tightly while a man rubbed her eyelids with a dark gray substance.

Ashes.

The man rubbing the ashes around her closed eyes was none other than Luke. The sweatshirt he had been wearing earlier was draped over the “dining room” table. With it off, David could see that Luke was much stronger than someone with his lithe frame should be. His muscles bulged around each seam of his shirt. In fact, the longer David looked at Luke, the bigger the muscles seemed to grow. The wall behind Luke seemed to bend to fit Luke’s build. The air around him shimmered like the air above a cookout. David blinked,

That can’t be.

and all was normal again.

Relatively.

“This is North America,” said Luke, announcing it like a prayer, “United States, Upper Midwest, Lakes and Prairie, girl 83,463.” He turned the girl around and forced her to bend in half at the waist. Then, Luke lifted the girl’s shirt, and kissed her lower back. He straightened up while two men stepped forward to hold the girl so that her head was on the ground and her feet were pointed toward the popcorn ceiling. With the men supporting her, Luke grabbed her ankles and spoke again with his sulfuric voice. “We mark and number her for the duration of this rapture. We christen her with ash. In undoing her baptismal rites, we leave her to your will, O Prince of Earthly Pleasures, and make her a virgin to salvation until the end of time.”

At the end of his speech, Luke dipped the girl into the ground. The carpet moved around her skull and submerged her head up to her collarbone. When Luke pulled her back out, the gray ashes around her eyes had darkened into a shade of black that wiped away all promise of light. Even the whites of her eyes were diminished to gray blurs.

The men helped the girl back to her feet, to stand back on solid carpet. With legs like a faun, she wobbled back to a group of people in the circle with dark eyes like hers.

Hell. David would have laughed out loud if his head wasn’t pounding with a headache unlike any he’d had before. This is a hallucination. But how could it be? Even while under LSD’s influence, he could discern the tricks of his mind from the phenomena of the real world. But David had no idea what explanation to lean this spectacle against. Had he flown past his own capability to see through unreality? It was reasonable to assume so. He didn’t have to know what was going on to know that he was overreacting.

Where’s that fucking Tylenol?

David didn’t have time to comprehend what was going on in Tom’s living room. His headache was accelerating like a train that threatened to crash through his frontal lobe if he didn’t pull the brakes on the tracks. He was so stricken with pain that he almost forgot that the headache meds didn’t work. He had taken a whole bottle of them earlier, all to no effect. The only way to settle it down was to take more acid.

The wallet was still in his pocket. David pulled the sheet out. This was the one Luke had been so kind to give him for only $20. How coincidental that Luke was here now, in the center of the room, talking about numbering people, about rapture. With just one look around the room, David was sure that Luke had sold acid to every single one of the people here. They were all tripping right now.

Luke dipped his fingers into his tin and smeared the ashes on an old man’s eyes. “This is North America, United States, Upper Midwest, Lakes and Prairie, boy 79,334.” He bent him over as he did with the girl and kissed his lower back, then, with the help of his two men, began what David was now hesitant to call a prayer—what sounded more like a curse: “We mark and number him for the duration of this rapture. We christen him with ash. In undoing his baptismal rites, we leave him to your will, O Prince of Earthly Pleasures, and make him a virgin to salvation until the end of time.”

With each word Luke spoke, a spike entered David’s head. He had to

But that’s exactly what he wants.

drop more acid. David wanted to put a stop to this ceremony, whatever it was. As soon as Luke finished the curse, David looked away. He didn’t want to see a person’s head dunk into the floor again. If he saw it twice, then he would know he wasn’t

A virgin to salvation until the end of time.

hallucinating. As he looked away, shielding his face from the bright lights in the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of something familiar. In the crowd was MacKenzie, thankfully yet uncovered in ashes. She didn’t bother with her mask anymore. She watched the unbaptism in paralyzed discomfort.

David crept along the edge of the room and surprised her out of her trance with a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, causing David to recoil in shame.

“How many have you taken?” he asked. He waited impatiently through the crushing

“How many have you taken?” weight of his new headache for her answer, but there

“How many have you taken?” came none. “Tabs, MacKenzie! How many?”

She looked up at him with terror. “Tell me I’m dreaming,” she said.

Do you dream about demons?

“You’re not here,” she said. “You’re not.” She pushed away from him and staggered

“You’re not.” down the hall. David chased after her, feeling the

“You’re not.” blood gush in and out of his forehead.

“You’re not.” He needed painkillers. He needed them now.

“You’re not.”

“No!”

“No!”

David was in the dark. He felt a hand come around his face and clamp his eyes shut. He screamed.

“This is all there is now.”

David growled. He recognized the voice. It was Tom.

“There’s no come-down. It’s only up, up, up.”

David’s head felt like it was about to split open.

Then, his head did split open. No, not his head—his mouth.

“Up,” said Tom.

David tasted Tom’s sweaty fingertips under his tongue.

4

“Up,” said Tom. The fingers came in again.

5

“Up,” said Tom. He pushed a third tab into his mouth.

6

David pushed against Tom and waved his hands in front of his

“What did I do to deserve this?” asked Garret. He opened the window to the balcony of Tom’s apartment. Everyone else was gone. The street lights were on outside—the only source of light. David didn’t have a headache anymore, but he couldn’t feel his feet as they pushed into the carpet with each step. He didn’t know how he was moving, only that

face to find a light switch. He didn’t find a switch but there was a sliver of light directly beside him that he hadn’t seen before. David pushed at what he thought was a wall and realized he was inside a closet. David pushed out into the

he was. “First mom and dad, now God.” Garret climbed on top of the balcony railing. “How can he hate me? How can I control how I think? I’m not in control at all.” Garret was just about to jump when David pulled him back inside. As he did so, he saw a few circles of people surrounding more unbaptisms on the street. The demons dipped each boy and girl into the ground, thereby plucking them from any chance at entering God’s kingdom. And the people just did it. They complied. No resistance.

light of the bedroom where MacKenzie sat with her mouth dripping with blood and some unsettling hunk of meaty material caught in her throat. David hesitated to believe it was flesh, but he knew it had to be. He could see the skin. He didn’t want to know what body part it was. Or whose.

MacKenzie tried to speak but only mumbled through her full mouth. She whipped her head back and laughed through her nose and 

The floor and ceiling swayed. David expected the sun to rise at any moment. He had no idea how many days it had been since rapture started. It was impossible that it had only been yesterday when he dropped acid with his friends, right? Only, they weren’t his friends anymore. They weren’t his friends any more than the people outside the apartment were. He felt like he was inside their heads, and while he was inside, he realized how alike they all were on one simple axis: they were all unremarkable. When people make friends, it’s because there’s something about that person that sticks out. But among all the people in the world, David knew he didn’t stick out. None of them did. He didn’t know why he was in the apartment with them as opposed to in any other apartment, or on the street for that matter. He could be anyone or anything. He could become a strand of fuzz and the transformation would sacrifice no part of himself. They were the same in mind, body, and soul. United. Unimportant.

“Is there a way out of this?” asked someone. David didn’t know who said it. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Someone responded, “You already asked that.”

The light spasmed

she grabbed David by the shoulders and shook him until he fell down, crying, laughing, yelling, smiling, spiraling. MacKenzie spit out the hunk of meat at him and fled while Tom held him

“Listen!” “No!” “Get off of me!” Let’s

David tried to tell Tom something important

What was I trying to tell him? “There has to be a way out of this!”

It was clear that “No!” At least my mom is safe.

David ran out into the kitchen “Get off of me!”

“I have to tell you something!” “No!”

He needed to try to find a way out of this. There had to be somebody who could help him

“No!” “Just shut up and let me!” “Get off of me!”

What was I trying to tell them? “Is there a way out of this?”

“It’s never too late for forgiveness!” My mom died already.

She’s safe. Angel.               “I know why we’re here.” “No!”

Garret tumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Someone said, “there is a way out of this. You know it. Fuck my head! My fucking head! Fuck!”

“Don’t take any more!” someone screamed. They began to cry.

David clutched his head          spun around the room          No . . . I never said it . . . I never told them . . . I . . . 

“No!”

“Get off of me!”

“I’m not in control,” said someone. Garret raised the knife to his head and chopped off clumps of his hair, laughing as he did. “How is this happening if I’m in control?” He sliced away at his ears and punctured his chin. He made his grin wider by wedging his knife into the corner of his mouth.

around the room David “How many tabs have you taken?” Now I know what

7

“I have to do . . .” Garret was losing blood  sang

What was that thing I had to “I’m not in control.” The breeze outside

David clutched his head couldn’t have been pounding again

That’s what He’s looking for, right? “God is in control.” he just 

dissolved

“No!” He can undo this if I did it really matter if David jumped?

I need to right these wrongs. My whole life has been wrongs. Let me change

If David jumped, he wouldn’t feel a headache anymore. He might be able to escape Hell.

“No!”  David laughed once more at the sky Let me change my ways

There was something I was going to do first, right? “I need to tell you something.”

Just let me be in control. Just for one more minute. “It won’t help much at this point, but I need to say I’m—”

One second, David was facing Tom and MacKenzie in earnest. They stared back at him, their lips pursed and their eyes wide with concern. The next second, David was sailing toward the ground, head-first, off the balcony.

It was during that one second in mid-air when David finally felt like he could process time and space properly. He knew where he was. He knew when he was. And he had a feeling he knew where he was going to be in just another second, too . . .

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Hell didn’t come for David. 

He felt his skull collapse around his shoulders. His collarbone snapped in the fall. He somersaulted on the asphalt after his jump, ending with his feet flat on the ground, his knees gently bent, and his arms at his sides. It would have looked graceful if his head hadn’t exploded.

David waited for death, but it didn’t come. Soon, he realized that though he couldn’t hear or see anything anymore, he could still perceive, possibly through his sense of touch, that he was alive. The vibrations in the street and the cold night breeze tipped him off to his consciousness. He would have wondered why he could still be conscious without a head if he didn’t remember, out of the blue, that cockroaches could survive without their heads for days. Besides, he knew that his brain didn’t belong to himself anymore. His mind was connected with every mind in the world now. That organ lived on and would continue to live forever, always aching, always tripping.

David slowly rose to his feet, feeling the pieces of his hair and brain matter dangle near his shoulders and chest like chunky jewelry. He wished he could see what his new accessory looked like.

He remembered the moment before, with Tom and MacKenzie. He remembered what he was trying to say. David wanted it to matter, even though he knew ultimately it would do no good to save him from this state of being.

I’m sorry.

He tried to say it, but he didn’t have a mouth anymore. He could only let air pass through the mangled opening in his neck. A gurgle of air.

I am so sorry.

It mattered. David had to believe it did. It would do no good, but it had to matter to think about it, to truly feel sorry.

Soon, David felt unfamiliar hands reach around his body and pull him up. Then, the hands flipped him upside down. Someone held him by his ankles.

Simply by feeling the vibration in the hands that held him, David could hear the loud voice of the person holding him up. He recognized what the person was saying—it was that familiar curse, the grave recitation. He imagined a ring of people around him, watching him with vacant expressions.

Then, David felt himself descend.