Divinity

Act III: Inferno

I swear I touched Heaven. I swear it was right in front of me: Inches away. Reaching out my hand, I got close enough to feel a glimpse of its warmth as it radiated wildly. Then, it was over, and I fell from the stars and lights. I screamed, but the void swallowed the sound, rendering me mute. I wished that I could tear out my eyes in an attempt to not see that divine light as it escaped me. Tears poured from my burning pupils, but I couldn't look away. I've always wanted wings. That way, I could just fly away from all the pain; all the suffering; all the lies; all the pain. But now I'm here, breaking down and useless. Placing the sharpened blade into the flames, Kyle felt the handle grow warm. Tears slipping from his eyes sizzled as they dropped into the fire. For better or worse, no one was there to see or hear him when he cried.

'Days without nightmares' was written somewhere on the cave wall. Collections of tallies had been done with a small rock, leaving white scratches in series of seven (four, then a slash, and then two lines on their own). At this point, Stan had made four weeks' worth of tallies, nearly every one slashed out with a streak of red. At this point, the phantom pain had vanished, leaving a feeling of incompleteness in his body that spread like a virus. Come soon, Kyle, Stan prayed to himself.

"Do you believe in the antichrist?" Bebe asked Craig one morning while they sat atop the warm sand. Kenny glanced over at them, not wanting them to notice him. His hood was off, allowing cool winds to kiss his cheeks. "I think it's coming from this island."

"What is he?" Craig asked, wide-eyed. His voice lacked emotion, but his interest was obvious.

"Nothing knows," Bebe answered, as if in a trance. "It's not human, though. But it looks like a human. It comes from here: It comes from nature. And it's someone that everybody trusts." Kenny looked down at himself in disgrace. "I don't even know if it knows it's the antichrist. One way or another, it'll lead the world into darkness."

"Real darkness?" the raven-haired boy inquired. Bebe nodded. "I'm ready."

"Me too," Bebe agreed. "It's the only thing getting off this island. It's the only way it's right."

The antichrist has no mercy, no guilt, and no understanding of pain. He comes to mislead the innocent, to taint the holy, and to kill. His reign is one of darkness and sin. All who follow him will die, and all who oppose him will be killed. There used to be such a difference between dying and being killed. A life eternal has its limits, and even its end. Eternity is relative, as Kenny knew well. His hands trembling, the young boy pulled his hood up and tightened its strings, concealing most of his heavenly little face. In retrospect, it was all so ugly. Now, the truth was made known. It could have been so beautiful, but the secret was meant to be revealed. Bebe and Craig had to be the ones to bring it up. However, it was a cruel wind that whispered the secrets.

God…I'm so sorry, Kenny confessed in his mind, his pulse racing and his palms sweating. I'm trying…I'm trying so hard. I don't want to fail you. Karen still walks across the waters. The voice is still so close. The sun is getting low. I can't even say goodbye, the blond boy cried to himself, glancing at the cave where Stan, Kyle, Eric, Butters, and Wendy must have been. His doe eyes welling up with hot tears, Kenny snuffed back his sobs, removed his hoodie and placed it on the sand, gathered some rocks, and put them in his pant pockets. I tried to be a good person, Father. I really tried. I made so many mistakes, and I'm sorry for all of them. Please, send someone to save my friends. Don't let them die here. And please…send an angel to take care of Karen. She loves You so much. Just…just don't send me to watch her…I'd only hurt her. The sun had faded by the time Kenny reached the ocean. The waves were calm at first, but they began to rage as time went by. I can't say goodbye. They have to hate me. I'm the antichrist…and I have been my whole life. I wasn't born. I came from this evil place. This is the only good I can do. I'm sorry, God. I'm sorry, Karen. Mom, Dad, Kevin…I'm sorry, Butters, Eric, Stan, Kyle, Wendy…Goodbye, you guys. Stepping foot into the waves, Kenny took one last glance back at his loved ones, sobbed quietly, and turned to the ocean, where nothing awaited him. Step by step, the poor little boy slowly sunk down deeper, as if washed away by the sea. The weight of the rocks was enough to hold him down. Soon, he was up to his neck. Father…I've sinned. I'm sorry, though. Please…if I'm worth it, take me into Your loving arms… The waves washed over Kenny's sweet head, hiding his pure blond locks from the world. …And never let me go. Closing his loving eyes, the child breathed no more.

The pain started days ago. All the medication was gone, and it hurt. Pressing his hand to his aching heart, Tweek winced for an instant, but put himself aside to carry on. His stomach pain prevented him from eating, slowly creating an ulcer. The jitters and ticks were no longer constant: His body was too weak and tired to become hyperactive again. His mind drifting, eyes heavy, Tweek walked towards the canyon, all ambition and comfort gone and distant to him. He didn't like what the waters said when the waves crashed, and the night brought greater fear. A tiger could come, curl up around him, and give him support and warmth, but now wasn't the time. Sweat trickled off his neck, some of it icy, some of it warm. Oh, man, he sighed. I hate this. I don't wanna live anymore. I just want out. Maybe Wendy would hold him, keep him from crying. The sand screamed when his foot dug into it, causing him to shriek loudly.

"Shut up, asshole," Cartman angrily cried out. Tweek continued walking, his mind drawing connections to the number of steps and what caused the screams. Finally, he made it to the rocks and jumped in. Wendy, Stan, Butters, and Kyle were already there. "Where's Bebe and Craig?" the tense little boy asked.

"I think they're with Kenny," Kyle answered calmly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen them, and I've been all over the beach," Tweek explained. "I'm getting really worried."

"I can tell," Stan replied. "Tweek, why don't you hang with us for awhile? Kyle, could you and Cartman help find Kenny and the gang?"

Glancing out at Eric, who was sitting against a tree, seemingly talking to himself, Kyle sadly turned away, looking Stan in the eye with a look of sorrow on his withered face. "Maybe Butters and I should go," he coined. "Is that okay with you, Butters?"

"Sure thing, Kyle," the blond little boy answered, hopping up from his seat. "You want me to go get Eric, fellas?"

"I think we're okay," Wendy replied. "He looks like he needs some time alone, anyway." The two boys departed from their friends and set out to find their missing loved ones.

Tweek sat beside Stan, gently brushing his hand over the rock and wishing he could take the boy's place. "You're gonna be okay, Stan," he squeaked, trying to get his throat restrictions under control.

"Thanks, man," Stan replied with a smile. "You still okay?"

"I'm fine," Tweek lied, his left eye twitching. "Wendy, are you…"

"I'm good, Tweek," the raven-haired girl answered. "Thank you."

Walking along the shore, Kyle couldn't help but look at the ocean in the hopes of seeing a rescue boat. However, there was nothing there. "Butters, I'm gonna check further inland," the Jewish boy declared. "Can you stay on the beach and watch for company?"

"Can do," Butters answered, giving a joking salute. The little blond boy began looking over the shore, taking glances at the ocean.

Attempting to clench his broken hand, Kyle's attention drifted away until he stepped on something that caught his foot. Shooting his glance down to the ground, the boy saw Kenny's jacket wrapped around his shoe. Gradually lowering himself into a seated position, he made sure Butters wasn't looking, pulled the jacket off, and unfolded it before himself. Oh dear god, no, Kyle begged, looking around and seeing no sign of his beloved friend. Quickly realizing what must have happened, the boy tightly clenched the orange hoodie and pressed it against his heart, as if hugging Kenny one last time. No, Kenny, he sobbed, tightly shutting his eyes and allowing himself to cry. However, Butters couldn't know; not yet. The little hoodie still smelled like him. In some ways, it was better this way: No goodbye, no closure: Just the dreams and the memories. Rest in peace forever and ever, Kyle bid farewell to his sweet friend.

Without his knowing, the hours passed Kyle by. Time was meaningless right now, and only an outside force could move an immobile object. "Kyle!" Butter's voice broke the silence. "They're here!" Snapping out of his trance, the redheaded boy tucked the sweater into his own jacket and ran towards Butters.

On the beach, Bebe and Craig stood still, dressed entirely in black garments and fabrics. "What the hell happened to you guys?" Kyle demanded, his anger getting the best of him. "Where'd you go? Where'd you find those clothes? And why, in hell, did you go without telling anyone?"

"We can't tell you anything yet," Bebe answered, her voice crackling and free of emotion.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Kyle shouted, not meaning to go off in front of Butters.

"Have you done the operation on Stan yet?" Craig replied, stepping forward.

His expression began to change as his outrage melded with his confusion and deep disturbance, causing the Jewish young man's eyes to widen and his face to tremble. "What?" he exclaimed, his quaking voice reduced to a whisper. "What kind of…"

"We found a way," Bebe interrupted. "A new way. We can save everyone here…But we have to get Stan out of there first. You should do it by tonight."

"He doesn't want anyone else there when I do it," Kyle argued, his anger faded.

"Kyle, we all have to be there," Craig replied. "Trust us." Butters cringed at the thought of witnessing such a thing but didn't speak up.

"Everyone has to be there," an awestruck and sorrowful Kyle whispered, unable to stop seeing Kenny's face and Butters' pain. His saddened eyes drifting towards the ground, the young boy felt a sense of hopelessness creep inside of him. "Something's coming, Butters," he declared, fearing the worst.

The skies were painted red as the final hours of sunlight neared. Craig, Bebe, Tweek, Cartman, Butters, Kyle, Wendy, and Stan all gathered in their little safe haven. As Wendy carefully tied his arm with a tourniquet, Stan began to weep in humiliation and weakness. Butters and Tweek stared at the ground in shame. Kyle continuously apologized to his dearest friend, accepting that there was nothing that could have been done. "Are you ready, angel?" Wendy quietly asked her boyfriend, who could only nod.

"I'm really sorry about all this, Stan," Kyle declared. "I broke my promise…Just close your eyes and it'll be over soon. Is there anything you need?"

Shaking his head, Stan whispered "No," in a weak and trembling voice. Quickly wiping a tear from his own eye, Kyle prepared his instruments, prayed, and approached his best friend. "Just close your eyes, Stan," the Jewish young man carefully instructed. "The feeling should be completely gone by now. Are you ready for me to start?" Stan nodded, and Kyle began his work.

The discoloration was slowly spreading and the arm had been without blood for far too long. Having scorched his blade in a small fire to rid it of any bacteria or impurities, Kyle pressed the point into Stan's inner elbow until it drew blood. Although most of the feeling was gone, Stan still winced through closed eyes while Wendy held his hand. Cutting deeper and deeper, Kyle began to breathe heavily, struggling not to break down. "Damn it!" he cried out as blood began to spurt following a mistake. "Craig, help me with this." As the black-haired boy ran to Kyle's side, Butters hid his face in his hands and wept as Tweek pulled him close. His eyes grew weak as Stan's head started to bob downward. The blood loss and growing pain was tearing him apart.

"Stay awake, Stan," Wendy pleaded. "It'll be over soon." Soon, the blood began to pool over the rocks, allowing Bebe to start collecting it in her water bottle.

After some time, the wound was blocked and the blood stopped its release. Stan's face was growing pale but he still lived. Making his way through the muscle tendons, Kyle felt his stomach flip. As the nerves were cut, Stan began to scream and cry out. Still, Wendy held him closer. Unable to witness his friends' suffering, Cartman ran outside and vomited behind a small rock. Tweek found it hard to breathe as the sense of being overcome filled him. Butters tightly covered his ears, reciting old bedtime stories as he sobbed. Then, after so long, the procedure ended in an instant, and Kyle pulled Stan as far from the rock as he could. Kyle and Wendy then laid the suffering little boy down and bandaged what was left of his left arm.

"Butters, can you get Eric?" Kyle asked, his eyes closed as he took a seat on a rock. "Tell him it's over and Stan's gonna be okay."

"He's unconscious but he's okay," Wendy declared, placing her jacket over the peaceful boy's body as a blanket. With that, the sun set, and all was dark.

Later that night, Tweek agreed to watch over Stan while he slept, allowing Wendy to leave the blood-soaked chamber. Kyle was sitting alone on a rock, wrapped in Kenny's coat, striking his chest every few seconds, and praying sorrowfully. "Kyle," Wendy said in a calm voice, sitting down beside her friend and placing her arm around him. "You did the best you could. This shouldn't have been up to you… Thank you. You saved him." Sobbing loudly and sucking in his cries, Kyle shook his head miserably. "…Where's the knife?" Kyle didn't answer. "Kyle, where's the knife? Give it to me…Now." Taking the blade from his pocket, the redheaded boy handed Wendy the weapon and cried into his mittens. "Kenny…he's gone, isn't he?" Kyle sobbed, nodding his head. "We've gotta get off this island…As soon as we can."

"That's why I let them in," Kyle squeaked. "Bebe and Craig said they could save us…Get us off the island."

Three days passed, Stan didn't wake up, and Bebe and Craig weren't seen. Pouring some water into her friend's mouth, Wendy prayed for Stan to wake up soon. Kyle, Butters, Eric, and Tweek combed the beach for signs of their missing friends. The entire time, Kyle struggled to come up with an explanation for Kenny, but nothing came. "Let me tell you something," a voice like Cartman's mother called out, prompting Eric to turn around. However, nothing was there.

"Guys," Tweek shrieked, trying to calm himself. The party looked at their friend. "I'm sorry, I…I can't do this anymore. I'm gonna disappear…But it's not any of your faults. It just…it has to be this way." With that, the poor, timid little boy ran into the brush. Butters and Kyle chased after him, but Cartman heard the voice, and remembered his mother.

Come midnight that same night, Kyle and Butters returned to Wendy and Stan in tears. Cartman had killed himself and Tweek had done as he said. Making sure they'd never find him, the blond-haired boy felt the crushing pain return to his heart, ran away, laid his head against a soft rock, and died quietly and alone. It was all he could do to spare them. All that remained for sure were Stan, Wendy, Kyle, and Butters.

"When's Kenny coming back?" Butters asked Kyle, his voice weak and shaking.

Glancing over at Wendy, Kyle swallowed his pain. "Butters…" he began, praying for strength. "Kenny…isn't coming back. He said that he loves you…all of us…But they needed him in heaven to be another angel…They needed him more. I'm sorry, Butters. He didn't want to leave you, but they needed him. I have something for you, though." The Jewish child pulled out Kenny's hoodie and placed it over Butters' shoulders. "He would've wanted you to have it."

"Thanks, Kyle," the scared little boy answered with a weak smile.

Suddenly, Stan began to cough, and his friends rushed to his side. Opening his eyes, Stan gasped deeply. "They're gone," he exclaimed. Everyone grew concerned, looking at one another. "Craig and Bebe…they took my blood…I saw it in some kind of dream. They made a Black Mass with my blood and stuff from this horrible place…They're gone. The things I saw them doing…Atrocities. They were never gonna help us off this island…They wanted to save their souls. All that's left of them is their sin. Our friends are dead…We have to leave this place now!"

"Stan, this is crazy," Kyle exclaimed, his anger rising. "Besides, how the hell are we gonna leave here? There's nothing around for miles, we're weak and can't swim anymore, and no one's coming to get us."

"Then…" Butters replied, his heart sinking. "It's over? It's all over?"

"No fucking way," Stan answered. "We can get away from here?"

"How?" Wendy demanded.

"What would Brian Boitano do?" Stan answered, looking at Kyle. After a second of silence, the two friends laughed, and Cartman and Kenny joined them. "What would Brian Boitano do?" he sang.

"He'd kick some ass is what he'd do," Kyle sang on. Wendy and Butters found childhood comfort in those words.

"Do you guys believe in angels?" Stan asked. Butters stood up and agreed. "Do we still have that knife?"

Together, the four remaining children, with the help of inspiration and love of their old friends, cut down a large tree, hollowed it out, and climbed inside of it, just as the angels had showed them. As the night grew old, they pushed the makeshift raft into the water, hopped in close to one another, and let the winds carry them out to sea. Looking into the water, Butters saw Kenny floating peacefully under the waves. In some way, he smiled at them. Tweek, Clyde, Damien, Eric, and Red did the same. The four never looked back, even when the forsaken island was out of sight. Remnants of Craig and Bebe lived on as thoughtless beasts: The only beasts that could inhabitate that horrid island.

What lay ahead was uncertain, nightmares would come, and faith would be tested, and the past could never be forgotten, but there was something more waiting for them back home in South Park. "I could really go for some of Chef's Salisbury Steak," Butters declared as the mountains came into sight some time later. The four laughed together, knowing that Butters was warm under Kenny's coat.