Amore

His phone buzzed. A text from Vance.

* Don't be rude, Caleb. Dinner is served. 'Amore'. 8:00 PM. Don't make us wait.*

Caleb knew he should keep driving. He should drive until the gas ran out. But he felt the pull. The frequency in his head. The vibration of the tie around his neck. He was tethered.

He drove to the restaurant.

"Amore" was a generic Italian place in a strip mall. Tonight, the windows were blocked with black paper.

Caleb pushed the door open.

Inside, the restaurant was silent. The other patrons sat at tables with plates of pasta in front of them, but they weren't moving. They were frozen, grey statues.

At the center table, lit by a single candle, sat Vance and Maya.

Vance was back in his burgundy suit, looking impeccable. Maya sat next to him, clean of the black fluid, smiling vacantly.

"Sit," Vance commanded.

Caleb sat.

"Why?" Caleb asked, his voice breaking. "Why me?"

"Because you wanted it the most," Vance said, pouring wine that looked suspiciously like blood. "The Crimson Plane is a hive mind, Caleb. We are a collective of pure love. No loneliness. No separation. But to bridge our world to yours... to open the door wide enough for the rest of us... we need a Heart."

Vance pointed a long finger at Caleb’s chest.

"We need a heart that is so desperate for connection that it would ignore every warning sign. A heart that would eat the poison just to feel warmth. You, Caleb. You are the anchor."

"I won't do it," Caleb said. He grabbed the steak knife from the table.

Vance laughed. "Oh, Caleb. You already did."

Caleb lunged across the table, driving the knife into Vance’s chest.

There was no resistance. The knife sank into Vance like he was made of warm gelatin. There was no blood. The suit, the skin, the body—it all rippled and reformed around the blade.

Vance stood up, the knife buried in his sternum, unbothered.

"Resistance is just another form of intimacy," Vance whispered.

The walls of the restaurant began to bleed. The grey plaster melted away, revealing the pulsing red meat of the Crimson Plane. The frozen patrons dissolved into puddles of grey sludge.

Vance opened his arms. His chest split open, ribcage parting like a mouth, revealing a cavity of swirling, blinding red light.

"Come home, Caleb. Maya is already there."

Caleb looked at Maya. She was melting, her form flowing across the table, merging into Vance’s leg, becoming part of him. She looked peaceful.

Caleb looked at the grey sludge of the world outside. Then he looked at the warmth, the unity, the terrible togetherness inside Vance.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

"Okay," Caleb whispered.

He stood up and walked into the embrace.