The Nowhere Man

33 The Inexpressible

Parking Level 3, submerged in a sea of crimson.

Evan is underwater, trapped inside his own locked-down body. His lips stitched shut. Drowning in Jack’s blood.

Jack ripples across from him like some hard-bitten merman. His arm is raised. The fine hairs of his forearm waver like tendrils of seaweed. His finger points at Evan.

You.

Evan strains and struggles. His muscles bulge but cannot move. Paralyzed.

For the first time, he lifts his gaze to brave Jack’s stare directly. Jack’s eyes are not what Evan expects. They are filled not with accusation but with love.

Yet the finger still points.

And Evan realizes.

Not: You did this.

But: You hold the key.

Evan feels it roiling inside him, years of pent-up anguish and guilt and grief, an age-old whirlpool of despair. It is every feeling he had consigned to the depths of his gut, every unspoken word he has packed down his throat.

It reaches a vomit pitch, and he understands that it will no longer be denied.

Acid burns up his esophagus and claws crablike into the back of his mouth.

His lips strain at the sutures.

And then rip free.

It breaks through, a howl cracked out of the hidden core of himself, expressing the inexpressible.

It says, Help me.