By Caleb Morrow

A thin hospital gown clung to his body, soaked through and offering no protection against the biting cold. Blood mixed with rainwater, creating pale red streams that traced paths down his arms and legs before disappearing into the mud. Luther pressed his palms into the muck and pushed himself up. Pain shot through his ribs, something broken maybe. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, and his left eye wouldn’t open fully. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

 “What the hell is this?” He whispered, his voice barely audible above the drumming rain.

He looked down at himself, the hospital gown was torn at the left shoulder, exposing a deep purple bruise. His bare feet were caked with mud and scratched raw. What the hell happened? The last thing he remembered was… what? Luther’s mind grasped at fragments, but nothing connected. The last thing he remembered was sitting at his desk at the office, typing a quick email before heading off to a doctor’s appointment.

Luther dragged himself to the edge of the road, his body protesting every movement. The country road stretched in both directions, disappearing into darkness. No headlights, no houses, just endless asphalt cutting through what felt like nowhere. He stood on unsteady legs, the rain washing mud from his scruffy beard. His teeth chattered uncontrollably as he turned in a slow circle, searching for any sign of civilization. Nothing but shadows and the relentless downpour.

“Hello?” Luther called out, his voice breaking, the word was swallowed by the storm.

He hugged himself, trying to preserve what little warmth remained in his body. Which way? Left or right? It didn’t matter, standing still meant death from exposure. He took a painful step forward, his bare foot sliding slightly on the wet road as he staggered clumsily onto the asphalt, his bare feet numb against the cold surface.

Rain hammered down relentlessly, plastering his thin hospital gown to his battered frame. Water streamed from his matted hair into his eyes as he squinted down the empty road. A pinprick of light appeared in the distance. Headlights, moving toward him.

“Thank God,” he muttered, raising his arms despite the sharp pain in his ribs.

Luther waved frantically, stumbling into the center of the road as headlights drew closer, approaching with alarming speed. The vehicle wasn’t slowing.

“Hey! Stop! I need help!” His voice cracked as he shouted against the downpour.

The SUV raced past him, tires screeching as it fishtailed on the wet road. Luther spun around, confused. The vehicle skidded to a halt, then lurched backward, tires smoking as it accelerated directly toward him. The passenger window rolled down, and a rifle barrel emerged. The first shot cracked through the air, Luther dove to the side as a second bullet kicked up asphalt where he’d stood.

“Shit!” His body slammed into the muddy ditch.

A third shot whizzed overhead. Luther scrambled on all fours, fingernails digging into the mud as he clawed his way up the opposite embankment. The SUV drove to the edge of the ditch and skidded to a stop. Doors opened. Voices shouted. Luther reached the top of the ditch and lunged toward the tree line. Branches whipped his face as he plunged into the forest. Thorns tore at his hospital gown while his bare feet found every rock and twig on the forest floor but adrenaline numbed the pain as he ran.

Behind him, flashlight beams cut through the darkness. Another shot rang out, splintering bark from a tree trunk inches from his head. He veered left, ducking behind a massive oak. His lungs burned. Blood from reopened wounds mingled with rain and sweat. Luther pressed his back against the rough bark, trying to quiet his ragged breathing as footsteps crashed through the underbrush behind him.

Luther pressed deeper into the forest, each labored breath sending jolts of pain through his ribs. The voices behind him grew fainter as distance and rain muffled their shouts. He stumbled forward, using trees for support, his bare feet now numb from cold and abuse. A fallen log appeared in the darkness. Luther collapsed behind it, pressing his body into the damp earth.

The hospital gown offered no camouflage, its pale fabric a beacon in the night. He tore mud from the ground and smeared it across the thin material, disguising its clinical whiteness. The flashlight beams swept through the trees fifty yards back. Two men. Maybe three. Their voices carried on the wind. “He went this way!” “Spread out. Don’t let him reach the highway.” Highway. The word sparked hope in Luther’s chest. Civilization. People who weren’t trying to kill him.

He crawled along the forest floor, staying low. Each movement was agony, but the alternative was worse. The rain continued its assault, washing blood from fresh cuts into his eyes. Luther wiped his face with a trembling hand. Why were they hunting him? What had happened after leaving his office?

A distant memory flickered, white walls, restraints, a doctor’s face hovering above him.

“The procedure was successful”, the words echoed in his mind.

But what procedure? Luther touched his temple where pain radiated in dull waves. A small bump beneath his matted hair, a line of stitches. Someone had opened his skull. The realization made him retch, he covered his mouth to stifle the sound.

A branch snapped nearby, Luther froze, pressing himself into the mud. Heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by ragged breathing. A beam of light swept over the log, inches above his head.

“Nothing here,” a gruff voice called out. “Moving northeast.”

The footsteps receded, Luther waited until he could no longer hear them before raising his head. The rain had slackened to a drizzle. Through gaps in the canopy, he glimpsed patches of clearing sky. Stars winked between clouds, he needed to move. Dawn wasn’t far off it was rapidly getting lighter, and daylight would make him an easy target. Luther pushed himself up, his limbs protesting. He oriented himself away from his pursuers and began a painful journey through the twilight.

Luther paused behind a massive oak, his chest heaving with each painful breath. Something wasn’t right, the forest around him glowed with an eerie brightness that felt off. He blinked hard, wondering if his head injury was causing hallucinations. The forest floor, the trees, the undergrowth everything appeared bathed in daylight. Yet the men hunting him swept flashlight beams through the woods, calling to each other about not being able to see.

 “Check that ravine! He could be hiding there!” One of the men shouted, his beam cutting through what Luther perceived as perfectly visible terrain.

Luther stared at his mud-covered hands. They were as clear to him as if he were standing in noon sunlight. He could count the lines on his palms, see every scratch and cut in perfect detail. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

“They can’t see what I’m seeing,” he whispered.

He watched as one of the men stumbled over a fallen branch directly in his path a branch that Luther could see clearly from forty yards away. The man cursed, regained his footing, and continued sweeping his flashlight in wide arcs.

Luther’s fingers instinctively moved to the stitches at his temple. What had they done to him? Had they somehow enhanced his vision? Is that why they wanted him back why they were trying to kill him? He peered through the trees toward his pursuers. Their faces were visible to him despite the distance and the darkness they seemed to be fighting against.

Three men, all wearing dark clothing, two with rifles, one with a handgun. The man with the handgun also carried what looked like a medical case.

“This is impossible,” Luther muttered, his mind racing.

A fourth man emerged from behind a cluster of trees, speaking into a radio. Luther could make out every detail of his face the scar along his jawline, the crooked nose that had been broken at least once. Luther’s enhanced vision gave him an advantage. He could navigate while they fumbled in what they perceived as darkness. He could see their positions while remaining hidden.

Luther crouched lower behind a rotting log as one of the men approached his position. Despite his enhanced vision, he hadn’t noticed this hunter circling around behind him. The man’s boots squelched in the mud just twenty feet away.

“I know you’re here somewhere little rabbit.” the man whispered, sweeping his flashlight in wide arcs. Luther held his breath, pressing his body into the damp earth. The beam of light traced across the forest floor, inching closer to his hiding spot. He needed to move, but any sudden motion would give him away. The flashlight beam suddenly cut across Luther’s face, illuminating his wide eyes and mud-streaked features. Time seemed to freeze as hunter and hunted locked gazes.

“I found him!” the man shouted, raising his rifle to his shoulder. “Over here! I’ve got him!”

 Luther’s head exploded with pain, centered around the surgical site at his temple. His vision blurred, then sharpened with frightening clarity. Heat built behind his eyes, an unbearable pressure that made him cry out.

“Don’t move!” the man ordered, taking aim.

Twin beams of intense blue light erupted from Luther’s eyes. The laser like streams shot forward with terrifying precision, striking the hunter directly in the chest. The man didn’t even have time to scream. His body glowed bright blue for an instant before disintegrating into a fine gray ash that collapsed to the forest floor. The rifle clattered down, landing atop the pile of dust that had been a human being seconds before.

Luther fell backward, clutching his face, the pain subsided as quickly as it had come, leaving him trembling and confused. Where the hunter had stood, nothing remained but a man-shaped outline of ash, already being washed away by the light rain.

“What’s happening to me?” Luther gasped, staring at his hands as if they might provide answers.

The other hunters’ voices grew louder as they converged on their comrade’s last position. Luther scrambled backward, his bare feet slipping in the mud as he tried to process what had just happened. The pile of ash that had been a living, breathing man moments ago was already dissolving into the wet earth. His mind reeled with the implications he had done this. Somehow, he had disintegrated a human being with nothing but a look.

“Johnson! Where are you?” A voice called through the trees. “I heard him shout! He found something!” Another responded.

Flashlight beams cut through the forest, converging on the spot where their comrade had vanished. Luther pressed himself against a large tree trunk, his heart hammering against his broken ribs. The pain in his temple flared again as the remaining hunters approached. The first man broke through the underbrush, his rifle raised. He spotted the weapon lying atop the ash pile and froze.

“What the hell?” He crouched down, touching the gray dust with tentative fingers. “Marcus? MARCUS?”

The second hunter arrived, breathing heavily. “Where is he? Where’s Johnson?”

“I don’t know. This… this is…” The first man couldn’t finish his sentence, horror dawning on his face as he realized what he was touching.

The third man emerged from the trees, the medical case still clutched in his hand.

“It worked,” he whispered, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. “The procedure actually worked.”

Luther felt the pressure building behind his eyes again. The heat intensified, burning from within. His vision sharpened to painful clarity, focusing on the three men now huddled around their fallen comrade’s remains.

“It’s him!” The man with the medical case suddenly looked up, staring directly at Luther. “He’s right there! Quickly fire the darts, we can’t lose him!”

All three raised their weapons simultaneously. Luther didn’t think he couldn’t, the pain exploded outward from his eyes in twin beams of brilliant blue light. The forest illuminated as if struck by lightning, the men didn’t even have time to scream. Their bodies glowed blue for a fraction of a second before crumbling into fine ash. Their weapons and equipment clattered to the ground, landing atop three more human-shaped piles of dust.

Luther fell to his knees, clutching his face. The forest returned to its eerie twilight state as the blue light faded. Four men gone in seconds, erased from existence by whatever had been done to him. Luther staggered to his feet, his bare toes curling into the mud. The ash of four men who had been alive moments ago swirled around his ankles, mixing with rainwater into a gray slurry. His stomach heaved, but nothing came up.

“Luther.” He whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. A woman’s voice, familiar yet distant.

“Luther, please.” It seemed to come from everywhere at once above him, behind him, inside his head.

He pressed his palms against his temples, wincing as his fingers brushed the line of stitches.

“Who’s there?” he called out, his voice breaking.

The forest remained silent except for the gentle patter of rain on leaves. He turned in a slow circle, his enhanced vision scanning every shadow, every space between trees. Nothing.

“Luther, wake up!” The voice grew louder, more insistent.

His body began to tremble, not from cold but from some invisible force. The trees around him blurred, their edges softening as reality itself seemed to waver.

“I’m losing my mind,” Luther whispered as the shaking intensified.

The forest dissolved around him. Darkness swallowed everything, then light bloomed warm, yellow light from a bedside lamp. Luther blinked, disoriented. He was in bed, sheets tangled around his legs, sweat soaking through his t-shirt. A woman leaned over him, her hands gripping his shoulders, shaking him. Her face came into focus Katherine, his wife. Her eyes were wide with concern and frustration, her dark hair falling across her face.

“Finally! You were screaming again. The whole neighborhood probably heard you this time.” She released his shoulders, pushing herself back.

“That’s the third night this week, Luther. You need help.”

Luther pushed himself up against the headboard, his heart still racing. The forest, the rain, the men turning to ash it had all felt so real. He touched his temple, finding smooth skin where he expected stitches.

“I’m sorry, Kat. It was just a nightmare.”

“Just a nightmare? You were thrashing around, shouting about people hunting you. I thought you were going to hurt yourself.” Katherine ran a hand through her hair, exasperation evident in every movement. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Luther reached for her hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll call Dr. Brenner tomorrow, I promise.”

The pressure built behind his eyes that same burning sensation from his dream. Luther’s vision sharpened painfully, focusing on Katherine’s worried face.

“Luther? What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Blue light erupted from Luther’s eyes before he could respond or look away. Katherine’s body illuminated from within, glowing electric blue for a heartbeat before disintegrating into a fine gray ash that settled on their bedsheets. Luther stared at the pile of ash on the bed where Katherine had been seconds ago. His hands trembled as he reached toward the gray dust, his fingers hovering just above what remained of his wife.

“Kat?” His voice came out as a broken whisper. “Katherine?”

Reality crashed down on him. Luther’s chest constricted, cutting off his breath. He clutched at the bedsheets, ash smearing between his fingers.

“No, no, no!” The whisper became a scream. “KAT! KATHERINE!”

Luther fell forward, his body convulsing with sobs. He pounded the mattress, sending clouds of ash into the air. Gray particles clung to his sweat-soaked T-shirt, face, and hair.

“Come back! Please come back!” His voice shredded into a guttural howl that echoed through the house.

The frantic clicking of claws on hardwood responded to his cries. Fluffy, their white poodle, burst through the bedroom doorway, her small body rigid with alarm. She barked furiously, circling the bed, sensing catastrophe but unable to comprehend it.

“Fluffy, no stay back!” Luther raised his hands defensively as the dog continued her panicked barking.

The pressure built behind his eyes again. Luther squeezed them shut, turning his face away from the dog.

“Please, no!”

But the heat intensified. When his eyes snapped open involuntarily, twin beams of blue light shot across the room. Fluffy’s barks cut off mid-yap as her tiny body glowed blue for an instant before collapsing into a tiny pile of ash on the bedroom floor.

“Oh God!”

Luther scrambled backward off the bed, stumbling over his own feet.

“I killed them. I killed them both.”

He staggered into the hallway, hyperventilating. His vision tunneled as panic overwhelmed him. Luther crashed down the stairs, nearly falling in his desperation to escape the house to escape what he had done. He burst through the front door into the morning sunlight. The mailman stood at the end of the driveway, sorting through letters at the back of his truck.

“Morning!” the man called cheerfully, raising a hand in greeting.

Luther’s eyes burned. The blue beams shot forth before he could even think to look away. The mailman’s body glowed briefly before disintegrating, letters fluttering down to rest atop the pile of ash.

“No!” Luther screamed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“Hey, Luther! Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Mrs. Grayson from across the street waved from her front yard, garden shears in hand, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

Luther’s hands fell away from his face. Their eyes met for just a second long enough. The blue light streaked across the street. Mrs. Grayson’s garden shears clattered to the ground beside yet another pile of ash. Luther stood frozen in his driveway, surrounded by piles of ash that had been living people moments before. His mind couldn’t process the horror unfolding around him. Every time he looked at someone anyone they disintegrated before his eyes.

“What the fuck?” he screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME?”

The rumble of an approaching car cut through his panic, Luther whipped his head toward the sound, momentarily forgetting the deadly consequences of his gaze. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis’s old station wagon slowed as it approached his house. The elderly couple had lived across the street for decades, always bringing Luther and Katherine cookies at Christmas, always waving from their porch.

Now their faces pressed against the car windows, eyes wide with shock at the scene before them a half dressed man screaming in his driveway surrounded by strange piles of ash. Mr. Lewis rolled down his window.

“Luther? Son, are you alright? Where’s Katherine?”

Luther’s eyes locked with the old man’s concerned gaze before he could stop himself. He tried to look away, to close his eyes, but it was already too late. The pressure built behind his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to!” Luther screamed, raising his hands as if to physically block the blue beams that erupted from his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s happening!”

The blue light engulfed the station wagon. For a split second, the elderly couple and their vehicle glowed electric blue from within. Their expressions of concern transformed to terror in the instant before they disintegrated. The station wagon and its occupants collapsed into a massive pile of fine gray ash that settled in the middle of the street.

A child’s bicycle bell rang in the distance. Luther dropped to his knees, pressing his palms against his closed eyelids with such force that pain shot through his skull.

“Don’t come any closer!” he screamed toward the sound. “STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

Luther stumbled back into the house, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. His mind fractured with each new horror, each new pile of ash that had once been a living person.

“Mr. Lewis! Mrs. Lewis!” he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls of his empty home.

“Why? WHY?”

He collapsed against the hallway wall, leaving a smear of ash and sweat as he slid to the floor. His body convulsed with sobs that seemed to tear from the depths of his soul. The pressure behind his eyes built again that terrible, burning sensation that preceded destruction.

“Make it stop,” Luther whispered, pressing his palms against his closed eyelids. “Please make it stop.”

Then clarity struck him like a thunderbolt. A terrible, perfect solution formed in his mind. Luther pushed himself to his feet, stumbling down the hallway toward the bathroom. His hands left ashen prints on the walls as he moved, marking his path with the remains of those he’d destroyed.

The bathroom door stood ajar. Luther pushed it open with trembling fingers, careful to keep his eyes downcast. The white tiles gleamed beneath the overhead light. Katherine had always insisted on keeping the bathroom spotless. Katherine. His beautiful wife, now nothing but dust on their bedsheets.

“I’m coming, Kat,” Luther whispered.

He positioned himself directly in front of the large mirror that hung above the sink. His eyes remained tightly shut as he gripped the edge of the counter, steadying himself. Luther took a deep breath, his chest expanding with what he knew would be his final inhalation. With determination born of desperation, he raised his head and opened his eyes. His gaze met its reflection in the mirror wild, terrified eyes staring back at him.

The pressure built, the burning sensation intensified. Blue light erupted from his eyes, striking the mirror and reflecting back at him instantly. Luther’s body glowed electric blue for a fraction of a second. A look of profound relief washed over his face in the moment before he disintegrated, collapsing into a pile of fine gray ash that settled on the bathroom floor.

The house fell silent except for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the hall clock, counting seconds for no one.