Hellboy: Unnatural Selection(44)

This was the landscape of Memory. A great blankness, deep and endless, to which forgotten things had been relegated, imprisoned. They existed here as conceits, not physical presences, and though they had minds, there was no past and future, no now and later. Abby's time here had been long, but she could remember nothing of it, other than a sense of being known by no one but herself. That strange solipsistic existence had not been painful, as such, because it had allowed consideration of no other. But its memory was still there, painted on the black backdrop for her to draw upon, and now that she knew so much more of life, its implication was horrendous: she could have stayed here, a mind festering forever. Blake had pulled her through from the other side, and for that she wanted to feel grateful. But his reasons for doing so ... they had been all his own. There was only selfishness in his mind. Freeing the creatures of Memory he might be, but for his own ends, not theirs.

Abby moved on, leaving the light behind. She knew that it was there for her should she need it, and she had a very definite sense of being attached to her sleeping body, back in that ruined church in Baltimore. That was her physical side, and it was very important to her, a link to the world that she would never willingly break She might have been recreated for someone else's gain, but she was all herself once more. If ever a time came when she would be relegated back to the Memory ... then she would rather die. That way at least she would be remembered, rather than being sent back here so that everyone could forget.

Out in the darkness little stirred. She felt intimations of presences around her, but none made themselves apparent, and she was surprised at how reduced this place felt, how empty. She drifted through the Memory, questioning the dark but receiving only blankness as an answer. Perhaps anything out there was keeping to itself, shy of her intrusion and unsure of how to respond to this presence, one of them and yet linked to a place beyond. She tried to project kinship, but in truth she felt none. This had once been her place, but that was no longer the case. She had a new home now.

Help me, she thought, and the idea echoed in the dark. I was once here and always will be. The echo to this was smaller, as if the darkness itself could see the lie of her statement. A man took me out, and now I seek him.

The man! something shouted. Its voice was loud and broken.

The scientist, Abby thought. The magician.

He pulled he hurt he tore!

And did he not take you?

He pulled he tried he broke he shouted he left me all alone!

Where are you? Abby thought. She looked through the blackness but saw nothing, sensed nothing other than the vague outlines of things that once were. Echoes of presences, that was all. Most were the ghosts of memories made whole again by Blake, but some drifted, so faint as to be almost invisible even to her. Some were lost forever.

I'm here, I'm lost, the echo said. I'm here forever.

Why didn't Blake take you through?

He tried, it hurt, he failed and moved on. Left me here with them.

Them?

The old ones, the oldest ones. The ones even he could not try to touch. And now that so many others have gone, their shapes become more apparent. Cant you see, stranger? Cant you taste them, invader?

I'm no invader, Abby thought, but she knew that was not the case. She looked further, deeper, but saw only taints on the empty blackness. What were you?

A god and a demon, and now barely a memory.

And if I promise to remember? Will you help me then, will you tell me where the man is?

I'm here hurting I'm here nowhere, and you want me to give you a place?

An idea at least, Abby said. You'll become my memory, I promise.

If there could be laughter in Memory, the thing uttered it now. It was a hollow sound, dry and empty and devoid of character. Don't offer what you can't deliver, it said. I'm way beyond Memory now. Too old, too faded ... too terrible.

But you can tell me, cant you?

The thing was quiet for a time, and at last Abby sensed something starting to drift closer. I could hold you here, it said. The pain would go, the hurt would go, because you would be my own memory ... my own waning dream ...

I exist, Abby thought, and she suddenly had no fear. I'm a part of the world, no longer just faded history. I have friends.

And I can never be a friend, the thing said.

Darkness grew out of darkness, a bulk formed from void, and it was growing closer. Abby began to feel its weight, its gravity, and it was tremendous. She sensed age, eons of time, and an endless stretch of experience and knowledge. A god and a demon, the thing had called itself, and she shrank back at its approach. It was not only size and weight but import and presence. She began to think she had been fooled. If this were only an echo, the true source of this Memory must be terrible indeed.