Khatam

Julia’s back is bleeding. I don’t know where Connor is. And it’s still dark out. It’s been dark out for days. Not the ‘there’s clouds so its overcast’ kinda dark. Pitch black. Every time we look out the window, it’s like it’s the middle of the night. We don’t really know what’s going on, and we don’t know where Govind is. We don’t know if he’s alive. We don’t know if he was ever alive. What we do know is, we need to get out. We need food. We need water. Julia says we need answers, but I can live without those. I don’t think we’re gonna hear an answer we’ll like. I haven’t slept for a long period of time. They say after a hundred hours without sleep, you start hallucinating. Maybe that’s what all of this is. Maybe in reality I’m back home in Chicago. Maybe the screams I’m hearing in the distance aren’t Connor’s…

When we landed in New Delhi with our backpacks and our money, we knew we were in for the experience of a lifetime. Backpacking through the northern parts of India with my two best friends. This was going to be good. When we got out of the airport into the searing Delhi heat, Julia, covering her eyes with her hand, said, with her characteristically dramatic flair, “Let the Indian journey begin!” We were all excited. Eager to go and explore a place that many had told us was one of the most beautiful and unique places in the world.

The first night, we stayed at a hotel. This was the only day of luxury we allowed ourselves. We were tired from the long flight, and didn’t really have the energy to go out and interact with new people. We stayed in a low-cost lodge close to the airport, with an unadorned bedroom and food we couldn’t trust. Be we didn’t care. Within ten minutes of entering the room we pretty much crashed, Julia and Connor on the bed, me on the floor. A lot of my friends told me it was going to be awkward being the third wheel with the two of them. So far it wasn’t.

I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was jetlag, or maybe it was the fact that after fourteen long hours on a flight, my back had finally given up on me. I was uncomfortable. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. Maybe I was a little nervous. After all, we were in a country where we didn’t know the local language. In hindsight, my nervousness was valid. I wish I had listened to the primal part of my brain that said something was wrong. But Casey Robbins Jr. doesn’t get scared. Not now, not ever.

The next day passed in a flurry of travelling in the indigenous auto-rickshaws, and Julia’s manic picture-clicking. That girl knew how to use a camera. Too bad nobody’s ever gonna see the pictures we took. Too bad that the last anyone’s going to remember of Connor is when they said goodbye to him at the O’Hare Airport in Chicago. Disappeared mysteriously, the newspapers are going to say.

By the time nightfall came, we were somewhere on the outskirts of Delhi, in what appeared to be a decent, upper-class residential area, with large bungalows with tall gates and intimidating security personnel. I was surprised at how affluent these people were, until Julia informed me that apparently having paid help in India isn’t as big a deal as it is in the United States. How convenient.

We needed to find a place to stay for the night, so we knocked on a couple of doors, talked to a couple of imposing, bearded security guards, and were promptly turned down. The third house in a seemingly never-ending line of houses, was smaller than the others. By smaller, I mean that it was three storeys instead of the four like the others, and the garden out front was half the size of a football field, instead of a complete football field like the rest. “Apparently, this is what they call a farmhouse in India.” Julia told me. It gave me the creeps. It was huge. I wish I had paid attention to the creeps. Julia would still have all ten fingers.

Julia and Connor were having a fleeting, cozy moment in the corner, so apparently it was upto me to go talk to the security guard about our living situation. I walked up to the gate, and pressed a button, hoping it was the bell. Sure enough, a six-foot tall man with a luxurious moustache came to the front and asked me what I wanted. I explained our situation to him, and he used what I assumed was an intercom to talk to the residents in the house about our situation. He spoke in fast Hindi, and I have no clue what the hell he said. I wish I’d known.

To our pleasant surprise, we were welcomed in. The house seemed much smaller on the inside, more homely and not as imposing as it first appeared from the outside . We were welcomed by a skinny old man, probably in his fifties, tall and wiry, with multiple rings on his fingers. Clearly the man of the house.

“I’m Govind. I’ve been told that you need a place to stay for the night. You’re from America?” He asked, in a soft, gravelly voice. He seemed to be a polished man, standing upright and talking authoritatively. But I guess to own a house like this you have to be polished.

“Yes sir, and we’d take any small room that you might be able to spare. We’re trying to complete this trip spending as little money as possible. We’re only college students, and we’re eager to explore the country.” Julia said. The man’s eyes lit up when Julia stepped forward, and clearly her tank top and skirt were factors in him saying yes to us. Indeed, the man didn’t ask too many questions. We were taken to the third floor, the security guard guiding us to what we were told was our room.

The room was probably the size of the college dorm Connor and I shared, but it had a double bed, and a low-lying fan on the ceiling, and we were grateful. There was no air-conditioning, but we were too tired to bother. It was late at night anyway, and after exploring the city all day, we were all beat. Connor and Julia took the bed, and Mr. Govind was kind enough to tell his security guard to put a mattress on the floor for me to sleep on.

I was facing the window as I lay awake on my mattress, and I realized that in contrast to the rest of Delhi, you could actually see the stars from this part of town. I guess the cleaner air and lack of pollution was a huge factor in that. With the soft hum of the fan over our heads, my tiring eyes soon collapsed, and I drifted off to sleep.



My eyes popped open, as if somebody had pulled them open by force. I felt a droplet of sweat fall onto the mattress off my forehead, and realized I was sweating all over. I was in a state of panic, and I couldn’t understand why. Something was different. I looked out the window, and the stars were the same. But something was definitely different. And when it hit me, I jumped out of the covers as fast as I could, and looked up. The fan was shaking. It was moving from side to side as if caught in fierce wind, directly on top of Connor and Julia.

For a second, I was in suspended animation as I stared at it. Bobbing from left to write, as if a couple of screws had gone missing. It hovered over the bed, first over Connor, then over Julia. Then Connor. Then Julia. If it landed, one or both of them would die. The rotating blades would strike their throats, probably cutting straight through. It would stab Connor in the heart. He would not survive.

I didn’t want that. “Connor! Julia!” I screamed out. Connor woke up with a start, and his eyes met mine, following them straight to the ceiling fan. Even in the darkness I could see the surprise on his face, and in one swift motion he roughly pushed Julia out of bed, and dived to the other side. Julia fell to the ground with a sickening thump, but before she could ask any questions, sure enough, there was a second sound. This one was more muffled. Followed by a spark. The fan landed on the bed within a second of Connor and Julia getting off it. The blades were stuck in the sheets. But it hadn’t stopped moving. The momentum of its rotation, along with whatever the hell made it sway in the air, took it across to the left, towards Julia, and in the darkness I heard her scream. The fan stopped eventually, right next to her, and I rushed to switch on the lights.

Julia was lying on the floor, sitting on her knees, and when she saw what she saw, she let out a blood-curling scream. Her right index finger had been lopped off. There was a bloodied stump. The still rotating fan blades had her fresh blood stains on it. It was grotesque.

Connor looked on in horror as Julia sat on the floor crying and screaming, and after the shock wore off, he climbed over the bed to get to her and comfort her. I was just staring blankly, trying to comprehend what had just happened, and while I felt really sorry for Julia, I had to figure out what was going on. So I walked over to the fan, trying to see if the wiring was faulty. The wires poking out from the fan seemed to be okay, if a little worse for the use. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something else. The blade that had lopped off Julia’s finger. It had her blood over it. But in the blood, there was something else. Fingerprints. Dark fingerprints, as if somebody had shoved their fingers in black ink and then touched the blade. It’s probably nothing. Somebody must’ve cleaned the fan, and inadvertently left their fingerprints, I told myself. Then I realized that the fingerprints were on the blood. Julia’s blood. Which had been shed less than two minutes ago.

I was about to point that out to Connor, but he was holding Julia in his arms and using a torn piece of the blanket to improvise a tourniquet for her bleeding finger. He looked up at me and said, “Yo Casey. Dude go outside and call the owner. Tell him we’re getting the hell out of here. This isn’t right goddamnit!”

I nodded. We couldn’t say here any longer. I was walking towards the door when I looked at my wristwatch to see if it would be feasible for us to be able to find another place to stay for the night. I stopped in my tracks. This couldn’t be right. Something was very wrong. I turned around completely, and stupidly stared out the window. The stars were still there, permanently woven into the nightsky. I looked at my watch again. I tapped it a couple of times just to make sure it was running properly. It was. And it should 11 am, Indian Standard Time. It was eleven AM, and it was dark out. Not only dark, dead silent. For all I knew it could be the middle of the night. But it wasn’t. It was almost afternoon. This wasn’t right.

I kept walking out the door, knowing that the sooner I could find the owner, or his security guard, or anybody, the sooner we could get out of this place. We needed to get Julia to a hospital to make sure the wound didn’t get infected. Maybe see if they could attach her finger back. But as soon as I walked out the door, I realized that clearly, something was wrong. The hallway that was lit up like the Fourth of July when we had entered, was now pitch dark. It was the middle of the afternoon, and I couldn’t see two feet in front of me. I remembered that the hallway pretty much went on straight till there was a stairway to the side, so I pulled out my phone for light and kept walking. That is, until I heard a loud thud coming from our room. Then I heard Julia’s scream. This time, the tone was one of terror. I ran back to the room to see what had happened.

“Julia what the fuck?” I shouted as I hurried back into the room, breathless. She was sitting exactly where I’d left her, and Connor was on the other side of the bed, on the floor. Julia looked up at me, her eyes wide with horror, and she showed me her bleeding finger. Or what used to be her finger. It was the same, right index finger, and I couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening. Connor jumped over the bed to get to her side, with the fan lying exactly where it was when I left. I was still staring blankly when Connor tore open a piece of the blanket to make a tourniquet for her finger. I realized with horror that I was seeing the exact same sequence of events for the second time. I stood at the door, dumbfounded, till Connor ordered me to go outside and find help. Again.

Before I ran out, I got closer to the bed to see the fan, and sure enough, the fingerprints were still there. This time I stayed where I was, and I looked at Connor and said, “Connor look at that. What the fuck is that?”

Still cradling Julia in his arms, her sobs escaping her throat in short, guttural bursts, he turned his eyes to where I was pointing, and saw the black fingerprints on the blade of the fan, in Julia’s fresh blood stains. Connor’s eyes momentarily went wide, but he didn’t say anything. He motioned for me to go outside to find help. So once again I ran outside. Only this time, I already had my phone out, and I threw caution to the wind and with one hand against the wall to find my way, I ran till I thought I’d reached the point where the staircase was. I turned my phone towards the other side to find the staircase, but there was nothing.

I carefully moved my phone around, all over the other wall, trying to find what had been a pretty prominent stairway, but I saw nothing. White, concrete wall. No stairway. I kept walking. Maybe I hadn’t reached the appropriate point yet. I was walking slower now, my phone’s light carefully following the wall to find the space where the wall ended and the stairway began. Pretty soon I realized that I had walked too far. No hallway could be this long. I was pretty sure I’d been walking for over five minutes now, and this wasn’t possible. This was some kind of messed up maze.

My run had slowed to a crawl for some reason, and I was a little scared now. Whoosh. A burst of cold wind gushed over my abdomen.

I ran. I ran quickly, into the darkness, suddenly not knowing if I was running towards the room or away from it. I was running for a solid two minutes, and I was exhausted, but fortunately, I reached our room safe and sound. The lights were still on, but they were flickering, the familiar eerie yellow that we had seen in countless horror movies but never thought we’d be living through. I looked at Julia. She was sitting alone. Connor wasn’t there. For a second I expected the part with the cut up finger to repeat, but Connor wasn’t on the other side of the bed either. He wasn’t there at all. Julia looked up at me from the floor, and I asked, “Where’s Connor?”

Her bottom lip quivered, and she pointed a finger towards the bathroom. The light inside was on, and the door was half-ajar. “He-he’s trying to find some sort of antiseptic.” She said.

“Connor! Did you find anything?” I yelled out, standing in front of the bathroom. There was no response from the inside. I held the door handle to open the door, and with a force much greater than the one in my hand, the door banged close. Julia probably thought I’d closed it like that, and she stared at me like I was insane. I tried to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. “Connor! Bro open the door!” I yelled out, using all my energy to try and open it. Julia caught on pretty quickly, and I could hear her gulp. “Connor! Get out!” She screamed, her voice hoarse now.

The door wouldn’t budge. I pulled on it with all the force I had, and then suddenly, it popped open. I almost fell backwards, but maintained my balance, still clutching the door handle. And…there was nothing. Connor wasn’t in there. The bathroom, lit up with garish lights, had a white tub, and a sink, and a toilet. What it didn’t have, was my best friend. He was gone.

I stood transfixed, unable to avert my eyes from the bathroom, half-expecting a monster or a ghoul to jump out. I couldn’t get myself to face Julia. I didn’t know how to tell her that Connor had disappeared. There were no words I could say. She broke my spell when she whimpered, “Is Connor okay in there, Casey?”

I turned my head to her. I tried to get my lips to move, but they were stuck. What could I say? “Julia…he’s not in there.” I whispered.

Her mouth opened. Then closed. She was trying to breathe, and failing. For a second I thought she might faint. I prayed that she wouldn’t. As brave as I thought I was, and as helpless as Julia was right now, the last thing I wanted to be was alone. We needed to get out. The two of us. Then come back for Connor. He had to be somewhere here. This house was messed up, but it couldn’t eat people up. That wasn’t possible.

I forced my feet, already exhausted from all the running, and numb with dread, to move towards the window. Maybe there was a way out from the window. There had to be a way out. The window was sealed shut, the glass thick. I looked outside, the stars shining back at me. I looked at my phone’s watch. It was noon. And it was still dark. I looked down, trying to see if there was any ledge or something, when my eyes noticed something else. And in that moment, I gave up. I rested my head against the window, my eyes closed, wishing somehow all of this would go away. Or if it had to end, it would end.

“Casey, is there a way out of this place? Do you see anything? Casey!” Julia asked. She was as scared as I was, but slowly gathering courage.

“Julia…” I started speaking, but stopped. I gathered up courage, and said, “Do you remember how this was the third house on the street, and there was like this really big house next to this one? The one with four storeys?”

“Yeah…” I heard Julia say. My eyes were still closed. I didn’t know what to say.

“Well, it’s not there. I can’t see anything. All I see is grass and trees. For as far as I can see.”

“Casey that’s not possible.” Julia said. “It was right next to us.”

“Well it’s not now.” As I said those words, it started to hit me too. There was no way out. The corridor was never-ending. The window couldn’t be broken. And even if we did get outside, there was nowhere we could go. Buildings were disappearing. There was no sunlight in the middle of the afternoon. And my best friend, the guy I’d spent all of high school and college with, had disappeared. It was just me and Julia now. For how long?

“Julia. Get up. We’re gonna try and get out. We’re gonna find the staircase if it’s the last fucking thing we do.” I ordered. We had no option. We had to fight.

She tried to get up, but couldn’t. I put her arm over my shoulder, and lifted her up, her finger still bleeding through the makeshift tourniquet. As soon as she got up, I heard an awful sound of something being ripped. The kind of sound you hear when somebody carves a Thanksgiving turkey with a knife. And then I saw it. A cut. Behind Julia’s head. There were letters there. In blood. Julia shrieked and collapsed on the floor, the pain too much for her to handle. My stomach churned. I collapsed to the ground with her, and pushed her head forward, moving her hair to see the marks. It was a word. KHATAM. I don’t know what the hell that meant, if it meant anything at all. But it was carved into her skin, as if she had been branded.

But we couldn’t stop now. I picked her up again, and took her to the door. And we started walking, trying to find the way out.

We’re still walking. We’ve been walking on the corridor for I don’t know how long now. We can’t sleep. We haven’t seen Connor. We’ve given up on making it out. We’re just trying to survive whatever time we have.

Right now Julia’s sitting next to me, with her head on my shoulder. We’re not going to make it long. We don’t speak much because our throats are parched and our stomachs are empty. Julia’s skin is probably infected. She’s dying in front of me. I can’t save her. Connor’s probably already dead.

Julia’s looking at me now, probably trying to figure out what we’re going to do. Her eyes are bloodshot. I’m sure mine are too. Who knows where we are? Who knows?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Casey.” Julia says.

“Julia…I’m sorry.” I whisper. Speaking hurts now.

“Khatam means to end. Did you know that?” She says.

I’m beyond exhausted now. My mind’s gone, slowly slipping into some sort of insanity. “Julia, what?” I manage to say.

“Khatam. It’s a Hindi word. It means for something to end.” She says.

I’m a little surprised. A little confused. Her eyes are a little wider open now. “How do you know Julia?” I’m asking.

“Connor told me. Just now. He whispered it into my ear.” She lays her hand on my shoulder.

“Julia, I don’t know what you’re saying. Let’s just…keep walking. We’re gonna find our way out, okay?” I tell her. I don’t know if I’m convincing her or myself. Both of us know its not true anyway.

“Connor also said that all of this is your fault. You’re doing all of this. It’s you. Why, Casey? Why did you kill Connor? Why did you drop the fan on me?”

My mind is lost now. It was me, wasn’t it? I’m the one whose fingerprints are on the fan. It’s me. I’m making sure the fan drops on Connor and Julia while they sleep. I kill Connor and hide his body in the bathtub. And I’m the one who has gotten us here.

My hand slides up Julia’s throat, till I can see the final vestiges of life disappear from her eyes. I start chewing on her dead, but still warm fingers.