Flux

peered into the fires of hell, seen things you couldn’t even dream of. Lock me up, I don’t care. I could join them, be powerful and then you’d see.”
    “Why don’t you then?”
    “Uh?”
    “Join them. Why don’t you?”
    “Because they’ve pissed me off. Because I’m afraid.” Iain’s bottom lip began to quiver.
    “Afraid of what?”
    “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve told you, you fucking imbecile!” Iain’s frustration bubbling over.
    “Well, I think I’ve seen enough for now. Goodbye Mr Andrews.” The psychiatrist got up and left the room. Iain heard the key turn and the lock close tight on his door.

    “Quite mad! I’ll get the paperwork sorted to transfer him to a secure hospital,” the psychiatrist told the two detectives waiting outside.

    In the world of sleep, Iain lay on his back looking up at the stars. That’s strange, he thought to himself. There was a new celestial body there, one he’d never seen before. The star of Bethlehem perhaps? Then as he looked on, the star appeared to brighten. A passage from the book of revelations popped into Iain’s head “
there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.”
Iain smiled.

    While events were unfurling like a fern in spring, Dave was sitting on his Mum’s pink floral patterned couch.
    “Dave, can you turn that thing off. Dinner’s ready and Golden Balls
is about to start!”
    “Yes Mum,” pausing his game, he left the Xbox turned on but changed the channel on the TV; it switched to the news. At first, the identities of the grainy photographs they were showing didn’t register; then he took a closer look. With utter horror he watched the report, and listened as the murders of Gary Fisher and Father Tim Humphries were outlined, along with the arrest of Iain Andrews. He stared, unable to move as the news sank in. He felt the blood leave his face, leaving him cold and clammy. Then, the world swam around him and he passed out.
    “Dave. Dave. Are you OK? Please Dave, wake up?” His mum was slapping him around the face.
    “Mum?”
    “Yes dear. I’m here. Oh my dear boy, are you OK?” She was crying.
    “Oh Mum,” bursting into tears himself and throwing his arms around her neck. He held her tightly, not wanting to let go.
    She hugged him back, stroking his hair. For now not asking any questions. She’d been busy in the kitchen and not seen the news report. One plate of sausage, mash and gravy sat upside down in the kitchen doorway where she’d dropped it at the sight of her unconscious son. “It’s OK son,” she tried to sooth him.”
    “No it’s not,” he choked through the tears. Not only had he lost one friend, but two. He’d only tried calling for Iain the day before, if only he’d knocked harder, been more persistent, he might have been able to save them. He’d known Iain was home, but figured he just wanted to be left alone.
    “Why would he do that Mum?” He asked once he’d let go his tight embrace.
    “Do what? What’s happened?” She still didn’t know and the worry about her child was evident in her voice.
    He looked at her through tear blurred eyes, “He’s dead Mum.”
    “Dead? Who’s dead?”
    “Gary.” Sniffing a big stream of snot back into his nose between words.
    “Dead? How, Why? What happened?” She started to tremble herself.
    Dave got up and bolted up the stairs two at a time and into his room, slamming the door behind him and flinging himself onto the bed where, burying his head into the pillow, he sobbed and sobbed until there were no more tears and he fell asleep. His mother, frowning and crying a little herself, more for the grief of her son than the death of his friend, made her way to the computer which sat on the desk in the corner to check the story for herself.
    Upon reading the cold hard facts, it was time for Dave’s mothers’ own grief. As if she couldn’t bring herself to believe the news until she’d seen it with her own eyes, the stark black letters on the screen jumped out at her. She’d known Iain and Gary virtually all their lives, since all three started the same school and became friends at five years old. She’d cooked more dinners for them than she cared to imagine, tended to grazed knees and