Chapter 6

Banan stood only two yards away from Jon. He didn’t look threatening. He didn’t look agitated at all. He looked very calm, but his eyes were a hollow black that Jon recognized. Jon held his gun before him, making an effort to keep his hands from trembling.

"Will you kill me?" The boy asked blankly.

"Shouldn’t I?" Jon asked, speaking slowly to keep his voice from shaking. "All those people..."

"Yes," Banan said calmly, "All those people... You killed them. It’s your fault they’re dead."

Jon’s eyebrows rose in surprise, "Me?" He repeated incredulously, "I didn’t do anything!"

Banan didn’t say anything.

"Why wasn’t Hanna killed?" Jon asked suddenly, "In all the other murders everyone in the area was killed. But Hanna wasn’t even hurt."

Banan didn’t reply.

"The riddle," Jon mused, "You wanted to remind me of the riddle, didn’t you? But what’s so important about the riddle?"

"Will you kill me?" Banan repeated, taking a step closer to Jon.

Jon’s knuckles tightened on the gun for a moment before he let it drop in defeat. He couldn’t shoot him. Not after all the time he’d spent with the boy. He was strange... but Jon didn’t really believe he was a murderer. There had to be something more to it. The riddle.

"Man fears and women longs," Jon said out loud, "For child... that’s right, isn’t it? You’re the child in the riddle, Banan."

Banan didn’t reply but stopped mid-step to stare at Jon. Jon continued, undaunted.

"Masked hides, plain in sight... that means the killer, whatever it is," Jon said, "It hides in plain sight and behind a mask... it hides in you."

Banan stared levelly at the man, his black eyes lifeless but still managing to look inquisitive.

"Fruit heals," Jon continued, "The apple in the cider calms the... whatever it is inside you. Bitterness rallies it to come out again. To quell the fear of death... no, not to quell fear, to quell the monster."

"The monster can be quelled by what death is afraid of." Jon faltered. What death is afraid of? That didn’t make any sense. But what else could it be? What could it be? The final answer to the riddle.

Banan took another step forward, coming out of the trance like state.

"What death fears," Jon repeated desperately, trying to think of something that would fit that definition. Some clue in what the boy had said to him.

"Do you hate me, Jon?" Banan asked, his youthful face emotionless and his dark eyes empty.

"What?" Jon asked. Then it hit him. Banan took another step toward him.

"Love," Jon said. The boy frowned slightly and paused. "What death fears is love," Jon repeated confidently, "Because love is the only thing that can defeat it." Despite everything, a small smile pulled at Jon’s lips, "My father read to me from that book, too."

The expression on the boy’s face suddenly broke like a storm. Anger, fear, and disgust written all over the once-childish face. Suddenly the boy resembled the monster that had to have killed all those people.

"It isn’t enough, Jon!" The boy howled, "It will never be enough! You will die like those you condemned!"

Jon’s hand tightened on his gun again and he almost brought it up on instinct. Then he let it drop to the ground. The boy loomed closer and Jon could feel a kind of discomfort blanketing himself, like his skin was being pulled tight.

"Fine," Jon said through gritted teeth. A thin cut had appeared on both his forearms, but the stretching sensation suddenly ceased as the boy faltered again.

"If that’s what it takes to stop all of this," Jon said, "Then kill me. Kill me so the others can live. Kill me so you can live. Kill me, if that will stop this monster."

Suddenly in one painful moment Jon felt his arms rip open. More than his arms, his chest and legs. Like a child tearing her doll in half in a fit of rage. Jon cried out in pain and his legs gave out underneath him. But to his surprise the pain lingered on and eventually he was able to look outside of himself and his pain again. To notice something other than his own ragged breaths.

Banan was only three feet away from him, crouched on the ground and crying. Jon stared, completely baffled by this strange behavior. Banan wasn’t the type of boy to show any emotion often, let alone to show such strong emotion at all. He was stunned.

Then the boy looked up. There was no trace of the thunderous monster that had slaughtered so many people. Nor was there any trace of the hollow-eyed, tortured boy who sat emotionlessly through everything. The boy’s brown eyes were alive with emotion as tears streamed down his face. And Jon understood.

"What... what was that?" Jon asked of the boy who was a boy again.

"That... that was Death," the boy replied through gasping breaths of his own.

"But... how?" Jon asked.

"A long time ago," Banan replied, "When I was eight years old, my father came back, in a rage, as usual. I don’t rightly know what happened, or why, but this force was released from me and it killed my mother. It killed my sisters. But it let him go because it was his fault. He felt no remorse for any of it and lived to an old age before finally dying.

"I was possessed from that point on. Sometimes I would be able to control myself. But I could never keep it at bay for long. It lusts after blood and death. And it feeds off the bitterness of me and the human race as a whole."

"What happened to it, now? Why did it stop?" Jon asked.

A slight smile pulled at the boy’s lips. "It’s gone," he said simply.

Jon felt a relieved smile cross his own face, "For good?"

"For a time," Banan corrected, "It can never be defeated forever. But I doubt it will appear again in our lifetimes. It will need time to store enough energy to possess another body."

"And what about you?" Jon asked.

The smile slipped from the boy’s face. "I don’t know. I suppose I’ll die now, like everyone else. God knows I’ve lived long enough."

It was a beautiful spring afternoon in early April. Some people had returned to town, but most had stayed away. Those that were left had rebuilt what they could and burned what they had considered too damaged to repair. Jon watched silently as Hanna approached a boy, a smile on her face.

"Hello!" The three year old said happily.

The boy raised his head to look at her, soft brown eyes taking a moment to focus back on the present. A shy smile slowly reached his face, "Hi."

"I’m Hanna, remember me?" The girl asked.

The boy nodded, "I remember."

"You taught me a song," the little girl said happily, "But I forgot most of it... I just remember that last part, like you told me."

"‘Til one would solve the riddle,

and break death of its hold."

The boy blinked, "That’s... nice."

"Do you know any other songs?" Hanna asked, looking up at him innocently.

Slowly, the boy shook his head, "I’m sorry, I don’t. My mother didn’t know any songs and my sisters never sang to me."

"You have sisters?" Hanna asked, jumping in excitement.

"Yes..." The boy replied guardedly.

"Are they nice?" Hanna pressed, "Can I meet them?"

"They... don’t live around here," the boy said carefully, "They’re all older than me, anyway."

"Oh..." Hanna looked slightly upset for a moment but she was over it quick. She looked up at the boy again, eagerly, "What’s your name?" She asked.

"Banan," the boy answered.

The girl grinned, "Do you want to be my friend? If I learn any new songs I promise I’ll teach them to you."

Slowly, the boy smiled, "Yes," he said, "I do want to be your friend."

Hanna laughed with glee, "Yay! Let’s play something!" She took the boy by the hand and began leading him down to the playground equipment.

Jon smiled.

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