Saliva

Barry never said no to free money. Not that he grew up in the lack of it but, he believed it was god's way of showing he loved you. So, he couldn't say no to Rob's offer for 50 bucks when asked to spend a night at the graveyard behind the abandoned St. Peter's High School in Boston. There was no way he was going to disrespect the almighty, even if it meant disrespecting the deceased.

"It's just a night, and you're getting paid for practically doing nothing," Rob looked through his glasses covering his blue eyes and continued, "Who would say no to that?"

"Someone who needs to study for the SATs," said Barry.

"Learn to live a little dangerously, my man!" Rob whined as he went on, "Also, what was your free money rule anyway?"

Rob knew very well what Barry's free money rule was. However, he also knew that Barry needed a little reminding so that he could get his way.

Barry always prioritized school over anything teenagers did- parties, relationships, and of course video games. No wonder the regret for missing out on life came to bite him when his arch-nemesis- insomnia, kept him up.

Barry took a minute to think. To think about the consequences, about the portions covered and what's left to do in the coming weeks, about all the decisions that led to him meeting Rob.

He shrugs as he says, "You know what, it's just one night and 50 dolla-"

"Is that a yes, Mr. Harper?" Rob cuts him off.

"I think that's a yes, Mr. West."

                               ***

The two boys packed everything they'd need for their stay at the Central Burying Ground, maybe a little more than they needed. Sweaters, snacks, and some utility tools like torches was a no brainer. In addition to the important stuff, they brought portable consoles, novels, even a switchblade in case "shit went sideways" in Rob's words.  

The two decided to assemble exactly at 8 PM in front of the giant gothic entrance of St. Peter's High School. The campus of the school was surrounded by a light brown stone wall that went as far as his eyes could see on both the sides-left and right, being held together by the great entrance made of rusting metal, with a lock just as big wrapped around the metal cylinders with a chain link. 

The only thing apart from the abandoned school and the graveyard was the pine forest stretching miles and miles, god only knew what lied on the other side.

 Reaching on time, Barry realized there was no sign of Rob or any living thing in the radius. Taking his phone out of his pocket, Barry held on to one of the cylinders as he started to swing from left to write. He typed with his right flawlessly, as if typing with one hand was a regular for him. "Robbie West, you son of a bitch," he said in a rhythm as he kept typing. Upon hitting send, he finally let go of the rusty cylinder and slid down with his back against the wall, and sat resting his legs in front of him.

BARRY: Where are you? I've been here for like 10 minutes already.

As he rested his head against the old entrance of the High School, Barry sensed something lurking behind him. He immediately turns his head to the left, and partly stood up, holding the cylinder yet again only to find nothing but the shrubs on the side of the pavement inside the school campus, battling the strong air current for survival. Though he didn't find anything, Barry didn't like the intense panic he felt that milli-second. He took out his phone, this time resting inside the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, checked the time (8:17 PM), then checked for a message from Rob, and unsurprisingly found nothing.

"8:25, and I'm leaving this shithole," said Barry and went back to resting his head against the enormous rusting structure.

A few minutes later, Barry slid out his phone from the Kangaroo pocket again, and to his delight, it was 8:26. This meant he was going back home. This also meant he didn't have to spend the night at a cemetery, but this also meant his fight with his mother over his curfew went in vain.

As soon as he helped himself up, on his feet, and slung his backpack over his right shoulder, he felt a strong grip on his left shoulder, only getting stronger and painful with every passing second. When Barry's attempt to shove off the hand goes in vain, he immediately turns around and his bag comes swinging towards his gut. The turn did get the hand off of Barry but it led to something much more horrifying. A man, his size, wearing a black leather jacket standing opposite to the giant metal door, with a geisha mask on. He looked right at Barry through the narrow eye-holes of the mask with bright red lips. However, this wasn't what got his attention, it was the writing on the forehead of the mask that scared Barry shitless- 'friends with the dead' written in the same bright red color.

"What do you want?" asked barry as he started taking slow reverse steps, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"Who are you?" Barry shouted, hoping his voice reached people who weren't wearing a mask like that and certainly weren't friends with the dead.

He wondered if anyone could even hear him, let alone saving him. There was no way a ranger was coming from the forest from god knows what place to save his ass. Even if a ranger somehow heard his voice, it'd take him hours to get to the other side.

"Come, serve him, and get blessed."

"Who?"

"A lifetime of blessings, a minute of pain."

Barry gets frozen in his feet.

The man in the strange mask limps towards the enormous door, holds the metallic cylinders, and starts banging them, moving the door to and fro so fast that it wasn't humanly possible. The banging made such a loud noise, that Barry was forced to cover his ears. It didn't serve him much though. He looked up and saw crows scattering in the atmosphere, their caws only adding to the awful sound. It was more than awful, the sound felt like...hatred and death. The crows, the sound, the horrendous geisha mask was so much for Barry to take, that he didn't realize he was drooling. Drooling so much that the neckline of his hoodie was drenched.

The banging noise from the slamming doors only got louder and worse and unbearable.

Barry tried running, walking, and even crawling away from this sick place and failed once again. 

"STOP IT!" Barry screamed. "Just fucking kill me already, I can't take this, please." 

Just as he got done screaming and begging for death, he felt something slither down his left hand, from his palm to all the way down to his forearm. He brings his hand to his line of sight, and to his surprise and horror, it was full of blood. Probably his own blood.

At that moment, Barry hated himself, he wished he listened to his mother and stayed back home, he wished he come all this way for fifty bucks, he wished he wasn't an idiot.

Over the loud and more-awful-than-the-last-second sound, Barry heard a crack. 

The man in the geisha mask probably heard that too, because he stopped slamming doors. With one last strong push, the doors flew open. Who would've thought they'd see doors big and strong enough to hold down a castle would fly open like the doors of a Mcdonald's kitchen.

The man started walking again and suddenly, Barry's feet were no more frozen. As soon as Barry realized he was no more frozen, he turned and ran as fast as he could. His footfalls splashing the mud on either side of his feet and with a heavy breath he turned his head back to see where the strange man was and to his shock, the man in the geisha mask was approximately two feet away, running as fast as Barry and way too fast for a man who was limping ten minutes ago. 

As soon as Barry looked back, the man tackled Barry down face first and was on top of him while Barry covered the back of his head while facing the muddy surface.

Not to his surprise, his feet froze. Again.

The man slithers down to Barry's ears and whispers, "I'm only his disciple, and look at me," a burst of eerie laughter zipped out his mouth, his shrill voice made every atom of Barry's body shiver and penetrated his skin, stinging him from head to toe. 

"Zeratus will like you, child. Come, follow me."

"What's that?"

Raging with anger, the man cups the back of Barry's head and pushes it to the muddy ground, until he starts suffocating.

"ZERATUS IS THE GOD OF DEATH, YOU IMBECILE!" the man shouted. His continuous stream of the man's drool runs down from the inside of the mask, all the way to the back of Barry's head, then to the back of his ears, and eventually unifying with the mud on the ground.

He finally releases his face from the ground and gives Barry some time to breathe. Barry immediately gasps to catch his breath, and once his lungs live to fight another day, his glance falls to the 50 dollar bill that's half covered in mud, with a switchblade on top of it to keep weight.

"You can't outrun me," more drool falls on the back of the boy's head. "You can't outrun the wrath of Ze-" a switchblade penetrates the mask covering the face of the man and easily digs deep in his face.

Before the man is thrown back shuddering, Barry retracts the switchblade as he holds the outer layer of his mask by his fingertips.

Suddenly, Barry's feet could move again, a sudden flow of blood down his legs quivered Barry as he got back to his feet but there was no time to deal with minor inconveniences when there's a psychotic worshipper of the god of death trying to kill you.

The man finally comes to a stop and so does Barry, his feet locked to the ground again.

He finally takes his mask off to reveal his face and to Barry's consternation, there was no face. No skin to be precise.

His face was just a lump of flesh shaped like a skull, and drool hanging on his face like cobwebs, and the saliva that wasn't hanging on his face, flowed down like a river from his vacant eye sockets.

Though Barry couldn't walk again, the tables had turned now, the scary man was hurt, Barry was the alpha, and with the mask off...the man just looked scarier. And uglier.

The man gaped his mouth multiple times before he finally could speak again. Barry stood there looking at more saliva trickle down his mouth before making his next move. He needed to be sure of what he did. If he wanted to get out alive, he needed a better plan that blind fire.

"Let me sacrifice your-" he faced trouble to speak, but he gathered the power to finally complete his sentence. "soul."

As the man finally said the last word, Barry noticed a crater inside his mouth. Large enough to be noticed from a distance of three feet in the dark. Instead of drool, a red-colored semiliquid lightly hurled out of his mouth.

 "That's probably his blood," he whispered to himself.

"I will get you, boy." said the man. "It's just a matter of whe-" as soon as Barry got the chance, he flung his switchblade from his side, which made two full rotations before landing a little under the crater of flesh.

However, the damage was done.

The man screamed in pain as he took a few steps back losing balance but his right leg kept him up. The voice was again inflicting pain on Barry, but he couldn't let the voice or the pain stop him. His blind fire worked once, maybe it was a fluke but he couldn't rely on flukes. He had to make another move before the man stood still again.

He charged towards the man, fear at this point had left Barry's body and lands a kick on the inside of the man's left knee. The man falls on his back against the ground and before Barry could take control of his balance, his feet froze again, dropping right over the man.

Barry again in the danger zone, got his neck under the grip of the man. Unbelievably scarier and uglier in proximity. Drool and semiliquid blood catapulting on to Barry's face. They both wanted to speak but couldn't. One had a switchblade stuck in the ceiling of his mouth and the other was getting choked by the monster made of flesh only. One wanted to curse the mother and sisters of the man who probably lacked skin themselves and the other wanted to speak about the wonders of Zeratus and his bullshit accomplishments. 

Barry had to think fast, the drool and the man's blood were clouding his eyesight as if mud over his eyes and face weren't enough. He again withdrew the switchblade and stabbed him in the eye this time. More drool hurled out and landed on the attacker's face.

He again withdrew the switchblade and punctured through his lips. The switchblade went on penetrating through the soft flesh. Even Barry wasn't sure how deep into his face he was.

Another withdrawal of the switchblade was made and it again went inside the face easily. More drool thrown out from one face to another.

This went on for quite some time, the process getting faster with every try, more red semiliquid covering the face, and more drool leaving his face. 

Barry couldn't stop until he was sure the man was dead.

After a little over 30 minutes of attacking, the man whose face was now just a ball of semiliquid, screamed in pain, once again. And once again, Barry felt like someone had inserted a million needles into his body. 

The man gaped his mouth, bigger than he had gaped in the last 2 hours of this encounter. 

A stream of light came through his mouth, Barry felt good. It was probably a sense of achievement or a burst of dopamine inside his brains. It was beautiful, as if he didn't just murder an ugly monstrous psychotic bag of flesh who wanted to murder him to sacrifice him to the god of death.

The light was the last thing Barry saw that night.

'Is this what a spiritual awakening feels like?' he would've said, if he saw this on some other day. Any other day than this for that matter.

The next morning, he woke up on a hospital bed, smelling like chlorine, which was a pleasant change from the combination of mud, saliva, and a monster's blood.

He was surrounded by a woman, who was going to say 'told you so' until Barry was either one of them was on their deathbed and two police officers who thought it was just another case of a teenager doing stupid shit while high on shrooms.

To save him from the commotion of the voices from Barry's mother and the two policemen, Barry resorted to water to calm his mind and maybe also his chakras.

He reached out to the side table to grab a glass of water but gets lost in thoughts of what he saw. A 50 dollar bill, torn and probably of no use, but still something very close to his heart. He looks at it and grins.

                           ***

The semiliquid blood slowly transformed into drool again as he walked back to the graveyard behind St. Peter's Highschool. He finally comes to a stop and settles down on the grave of some person. A Bulgarian lady perhaps.

"You know the rules and so do I," a voice came from the person sitting beside him. Holding his geisha mask in his hands as drool lightly fell down his face and more made its way down through the empty right eye socket where once rested a beautiful blue eye. "If you fail to catch him once, you can't hurt him again." said the boy.

"I'll honor the rule," said the man who couldn't finish the job assigned to him by and for Lord Zeratus. "I still got one of you though." he said.

"Son of a bitch." said Rob.