Ashes of Foreverland (23 page)

“
Where
the hell are we?”

“I had an opportunity to beat Death, you see. To start again, to keep what I earned. There would be one less homeless child causing trouble in the world, one less tick on the mane of society.” She nodded at her, unaffected by the battering ram pointed at her head. “You didn't want the gift of life, child. I did.”

“So you took it.”

“I took it.”

There was nothing for her to argue. Everything she said was true. Cyn was worthless. Long before Barb was in her head, little voices told her so. She had nothing to live for.

If you would've just asked for my life, I probably would've given it.

“No, you wouldn't.” Barb answered Cyn's thought.

Of course she did. Somehow she was still in Cyn's head.
She's inside me, part of me. So is this room, this house...it was too real, the colors vivid, the touch, the smell. Where am I?

“You're a fighter, Cynthia. Just like me, you refuse to let anything be taken from you. And that's why we're here, right now.”

“
Where
?”

“I put a needle in your head and sent you to Foreverland, where you were tossed into the Nowhere and your empty body left behind for me to rightfully have. I put a needle in my head”—Barb rubbed a tiny scar on her forehead—“and left this cancer-ridden body to move into your body, child—your beautiful, healthy unwanted body. It's what you wanted; you wanted to die. And I wanted more life. We both got what we wanted.”

“You know that's wrong.”

“But then Foreverland crashed and I hadn't fully crossed over into your body. That was me that woke up in the cabin, in your body, I just didn't know it. That was me that suffered through Foreverland's endless cycle of birth and death because Patricia refused to let us wake up in physical reality. That was me that went to the edge of Foreverland and peered into the Nowhere. And that was you that came out of it, your memories, your soul that came back to
your body!
”

She slammed the binder closed, a moment of finality. Or acceptance. Those photos—her husband, her family—represented her life. And she would never have that life again.

“You're the only one to have survived the Nowhere, as far as I know. You should've been shredded and dissolved, but somehow you fought your way out of it and took your body back. Do you know what happened to me, where
I
went when you returned, mmm? I was plunged into your subconscious. It's dark in there, child. And very lonely.”

“Then get out.”

“That's what I'm trying to do.” She sipped her coffee. “Maybe I was wrong, I should've chosen a meeker girl, a coward. But then I don't think I would've been at home. It is what it is, no arguing over spilt milk.”

She was wrong. There were others that survived the Nowhere, that walked out of it. She was forgetting her husband, how he was caught crossing over when Foreverland crashed, how he walked out.

But it wasn't like that. I didn't walk out of the Nowhere. Something pushed me out. Or someone.

She remembered those memories being forced back into her body. No, more than her memories. Her soul.

“This is
my
body.”

“It's
our
body, child.”

Cyn slammed the coat rack on the binder; the table cracked and the pegs splintered. She swept the book into the television; photos fluttered out.

“That's why I like you.” Barb didn't flinch. Her laugh had wicked notes, the husky crackle of tumbling cigarette butts. “Put that down before you hurt yourself. Sweet Jesus, have the coffee. I didn't poison it.”

Cyn heaved the coat rack into the wall like a spear.

Outside, it was sunny and the weedy patch gone. The garden was back—straight rows of beans and beets and corn.

Am I dreaming?

“Of course you're dreaming,” Barbara said. “But you're not asleep. And that's the problem.”

“Then
where
am I? Tell me, goddammnit! Why the hell am I in the house like this, and the world is back to the way it was?”

“You can thank your boyfriend.” She cleared her throat. “There's some connection with him, something that pushes me deeper into your subconscious when he's around. He forced me to discover parts of you that I'd never seen before, things that you don't even know exist.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Beliefs, thoughts, the things that make you tick. Your psychology, child. I understand you far better than you ever will. Let's say I've discovered some truths that needed to be learned. And now I understand what I've done.”

“What truth?”

“I can't tell you the truth. You'll have to see it.”

“What do you want?”

“Peace. I want peace.”

“Then go away.”

The old woman's smile was grim. She stood with a slight groan and walked to the window, leaving a trail of expensive perfume. Birds fluttered around the corn.

“What is real?” Barb asked.

“Not this.”

“And how do you know?”

Cyn started to answer, but nothing would come out. Everything that defined reality—eyes, ears, nose, mouth, touch—was all here. To her senses, the garden, the music, the candles were all real.

“Where am I?” she whispered.

“You're lost, Cynthia. Like so many in the world, you're lost. But we can find our way back. We can find the truth.”

The old woman faced her. Her steeled eyes had softened. She looked kinder. There was no smile, but there was no resistance. No more
you should kill yourself.

No more separation.

Barb had been in her subconscious. She knew the underworld of Cyn's thoughts, whatever was in there. What else did she know?

“Why now?” Cyn asked. “Why are you friendly now?”

“I told you, I learned the truth, down there in the dark subconscious. I suppose I have your boyfriend to thank for that, for forcing me down there and facing it. Let's say I know how to solve this standoff between us. I've had a change of heart.”

“Tell me what to do.”

A kind smile brushed her lips. Barb walked softly across the room, stepped over scattered photos and reached for the door. The music, the candles, the grandfather clock faded as she pulled it open. Outside, the wind howled across a gray landscape, branches scratching the weathered railing and the slumping steps.

“Remember how to fall.”

“Fall?”

“Open your eyes, child. See what I see. Know what I know. I bring you the truth of where you are.”

Barb offered her hand.

Cyn hesitated. It could be a trap. The old woman had fought her all these years and still lived inside her. Maybe this was a new attack: woo her with kindness before shoving Cyn into the dark subconscious.

As long as it's not the Nowhere.

Cyn was tired. With one fist clenched, she reached out.

She accepted Barb's hand.

Her body seized like she'd grabbed a hot wire, voltage gripping her nervous system.

“Open, child. Open and fall.”

This was the moment of standing on the precipice, looking into the chasm of the unknown. This was how she escaped Foreverland the first time, by surrendering to the present moment.

By falling.

Cyn unclenched her fist.

She let go of the hatred, the piss and vinegar, the clinging to what was rightfully hers. She wiped away the separation in her mind so that there was no
Cyn
.

There was no
Barb
.

No
us.

No
I.

Just
Am.

In that moment, Barb's thoughts rose to the surface, titans surging from the dark. They didn't have teeth or claws, didn't consume her. They simply told her where to find the truth.

The door slammed.

Cyn stood inside a dilapidated room with rotting furniture and a broken clock, the smell of mold and neglect. There were no pictures on the floor or coat rack stuck in the wall.

She opened the door and took the steps one at a time to find Danny. She knew where they needed to go, what they had to do.

You are the bridge.

The wilderness of Wyoming

D
anny woke up shivering.

The windshield was frosted. The rain had stopped sometime in the night. He heard sniffing and leaned against the driver's window. A thick mane of fur was investigating the crease of the door. The pack circled around the SUV. The pack leader stood in front of the brick house. One by one, they trotted around the house.

Danny looked through the brick house for the tenth time. He went back to the camp and sat inside the SUV until he stopped shaking, then started a fire.

What if I'm all wrong?

Doubt had punched him in the throat, convinced him that his delusion brought them out here to die. He read through the letters, held them up to the sky to reveal any hidden messages, imprints he may have missed.

Once the past uncovered,

And the demon cast out,

Only then forward you move,

To live without doubt.

He'd brought her to the wilderness to fall again, to face her demons.
But where the hell is she?

The house was empty. There were no open windows, no back doors for her to escape. The door slammed like the house had swallowed her whole.

Danny examined the two discs that had been sent with the poems. His disc had a blue edge; Cyn's was yellow. Other than that, they were identical. They reflected the firelight across the beige fabric of his coat, the pattern mottled from the arrangement of pinholes and strange angles at which they were drilled.

Build the bridge
.

That was the message, yet the discs didn't contain any directions on how to build anything. There were no images or messages in the reflection, no grooves that contained data. The pinholes could be some rudimentary code, some altered form of Morse code.

Or maybe they draw code.

He found a pencil in the glove box. Using a manual as a straight edge, he stuck the tip into one of the holes and rotated it like a wheel, producing a scribbled mess. He reached for Cyn's disc, the one with a yellow edge, and the discs magnetically stuck together. They were easy enough to pull apart. He rotated them until the holes were aligned.

The patterns were exact matches.

“What bridge?” His voice echoed in the distance. “Build what bridge? Tell me where you are, Reed! What the hell are we doing?”

He stomped around the fire, kicked up clods of mud, and heaved logs as far as he could. The pressure of survival weighed on him like stones. Somehow he'd lost Cyn, there wasn't much food left, and winter was almost on them. He had to keep moving to avoid letting the weight pull him deeper.

Pretty soon he was running.

He ran in no particular direction, zigzagging across the field, coming back to the fire, then up the hill, pumping his arms until his ankles burned and his thighs were numb and his chest was blowing up.

He fell on his knees.

The cabins and brick house were just over the hill. He wanted to throw the discs into the great wilderness, lose them in the obscurity of nature. If Reed wanted a bridge, he could mail plans next time. Danny curled his finger along the blue edge of the disc, tested the weight, imagined the sun flashing off the silver surface as it twisted into the gray air—

A wolf howled.

It was long and lonely, rising from over the hill. Danny turned for the campsite when the pack answered. They were striding around the SUV, all of them except one.

The alpha male howled from over the hill again.

Danny stayed on his knees, his heart thudding in his throat. There would be no running. No hiding. He had given in to a moment of weakness, took the bait, threw a tantrum. This was the end. He dropped his chin.

This is where it ends.

At least he found her. At least, for a moment, when he held her hand, he slept without guilt. In those moments, he left Foreverland behind and dreamed of a better life. He hoped Cyn felt that, too.

Wherever she was.

The howling had stopped. They were coming for him. The alpha male came into view and stopped at the crest of the hill, looking down on him while the pack snuck up from behind.

Danny closed his eyes.
I'd rather the wolves take me than the needle.

The alpha male sniffed the ground. Eyes still closed, Danny felt the weight of the pack circling. Their footsteps grew louder.

A shadow fell over him.

“Danny.”

She stood in front of him—short, ragged blonde hair and a baggy sweater billowing in a sudden breeze. She was calm and deep, as still as a midnight pool, yet he sensed the tension of a predator, one that could spring without notice.

“Is it you?” was all he could say.

She reached out and took his hand. Warmth flooded his arm, filled his mind. Her presence was as large as the distant mountains.

Doubt was vanquished.

She touched his face, dragged her fingers down his nose, over his lips, and drew him close. She smelled of sweat and things old, but her kiss was sweet. There was something else, something so intense that it tingled in his sinuses, something wafting out as they held each other near the crest of the hill—fragrant and floral, richly permeating everything that was her.

Lilac.

Somewhere, the wolves howled.

——————————————

T
hey slept in the SUV that night.

Danny did not dream, not of tomorrow or today. It was just a long blank dream canvas where all his hopes rested in complete silence. They woke with hands clasped, saints in prayer.

They packed the camp before the sun rose, left no trace of their existence.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To make a delivery.”