Death of a Nightingale

CHAPTER 43: LAST STAND - NESS

Atlanta's blinking lights sparkle with dimmed muteness far on the horizon as if they too stopped caring. I follow the monster out of the comfort of the small cemetery, around several street corners. With each turn, more urban neglect comes out to greet me.

He disappears into the darkness of an old train terminal and I hesitate. An image flashes through my mind's eye. A pair of ice-blue eyes on a subway car across, heading in the opposite direction. I swallow with sadness. Grace is gone. He likely killed her and I will never know. Maybe I can return the favor.

This train depot was built on top of an already existing, albeit outdated one, that was left behind to the mercy of the elements. So, it created a pocket of a forgotten world below. The darkness is all-consuming as I step into it and my eyes are so slow to adjust. So very human. What am I doing? I am following Death yet again.

I glance behind me to take in the city. The snow drops heavier now, with some resolute resolve. This is very rare for Atlanta. I can only remember snow from one other occasion and it melted the next morning. This seems to be the city's way of weeping with me for the perfect life I've lost. I pull myself out of the state of self-pity and step forward into the cavernous abyss. Tall ceilings span across a great expanse, covered in bat-shit and graffiti. I don't see the puddle in front of me, but I hear my foot connecting with the thin, crackling layer of ice that covers it. It shatters. I move ahead on the frozen, precarious ground.

I can't see the monster anymore, but I know he wants me to follow. All I have to do is wait. So I stand, watching my breath clouds dissipate into the gloom, and glance around the towering pillars. They're making him even harder to spot, but then I catch a glimpse of his long, ragged-worn coat moving behind the farthest one on the right. I press on.

I don't know what I will do once I catch up with him. Shaking his hand seems out of the question. A simple hello does as well. Do I ask what happened to Grace? Do I get to? Will he just finish the job and kill me as well? I guess it doesn't matter. Something drives me forward like an invisible force and I don't fight it.

We walk and walk for hours. We leave behind the skyline and the train yards, down through the broken system of cultural integration, and beyond my dreams, until I spot a building emerge in my line of sight. I've heard of this place. I thought it wasn't real. A true urban legend. Candler Mansion stands with stark pride against the moonless night. It looks like an abandoned castle after Sleeping Beauty had been long rescued by her prince, stolen away, and left her old prison to the indifference of natural decay. The structure is intricate and must have been breathtaking during its heyday. It still is, but in a very different way.

I watch the creature sneak through the boarded-up entrance inside. I approach with caution. I know that he'll kill me slowly. He'll probably enjoy it too. But I cannot help myself. I want to follow. I need to know.

The structure next to the main building is smaller and seems like a much better alternative than blindly following the monster on his nefarious terms. It's a beautiful, partially nature-reclaimed, decrepit greenhouse. Parts of the roof have been damaged and fallen, making it look a bit like a cracked tooth. I enter, utterly aware of every step I take. I see debris littered across the floor, though dusted with snow. I'm sure there are legions of rusted nails ready to jump at the opportunity to impale my feet.

As I enter fully, I take in the melancholic glory of this place. Snow gently falls through the remainder of the ceiling. Plants are everywhere. A bramble of weeds, wood, and thorns. A forlorn tangle of early 20th-century abandonment. In the center of the dome glass ceiling hangs a rope, complete with a noose. Strange.

I hear a loud step behind me and whip around. At least I want to be ready. My breath halts. I peer into the darkness. But I can't find the set of cruel, silver eyes. Another noise makes my head spin in the opposite direction and my heart flutters. Pure adrenaline.