FATE'S PAST

by Jason Huebinger

  She lay back on the lumpy comforter and stared up at the cracks of the ceiling.

  Your head…

  She closed her eyes and waited for Cameron to come back.

  * * *

  Cameron discovered a small room at the other end of the hallway blocked by a shut door. When he opened the door and stepped in, he noticed a large COKE vending machine, although he did not hear the normal hum of the electricity required to power such a contraption. He stepped into the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Despite the lack of electrical murmur, the buttons for “COKE,” “SPRITE,” “DIET COKE,” “ORANGE FANTA,” and “DASANI” were backlit. The LCD showing price was not displaying, but he pulled out the crispest dollar in his wallet, fed it into the dollar slot, and the machine ate the currency. He pushed the button for “DASANI,” and the machine’s LCD display flashed “$00.00,” but it provided no water. He again pressed “DASANI,” but “$00.00” met his efforts. He pushed again, this time with much greater force and determination, but again the machine refused to comply. Cameron, who was near his boiling point, hit and shook the machine with the entirety of his pent-up frustration. When he realized the futility of his actions, he ceased, turned, and rested his back on the machine.

  The lights in the room went out.

  Cameron, startled by the unexpected darkness, froze in place for a moment. He stuck out his hands and searched for the handle to the door. He could find nothing physical to grasp. Turning to try and reposition himself with the vending machine, his hands again found nothing solid to latch onto. He moved forward a couple steps to find the wall, but nothing materialized. He sensed that he was in an endless, empty space.

  He walked and hoped that his suspicions were wrong. Instead, Cameron just kept walking and walking, until he lost count of his steps. He strolled aimlessly into absolute nothingness; oblivion stretched out in all directions.

  He collapsed to his knees, although he could not detect a ground below him. Cameron prayed and his prayers focused on Carrie.

  Cameron thought, Is she okay? Is she stuck in this terrible place? Is there a way back to her?

  His feelings darkened and they blended with the void. His pulse slowed, breathing elongated, and head dropped. The emptiness was bearing down on his spirit and he slipped away.

  He placed his head down on the nothingness and floated irrelevantly. The magnitude of all that surrounded him slammed his mind.

  Cameron closed his eyes and realized that the void was blacker than the backsides of his eyelids.

  In the dark, he heard the growl from the woods. As before, it sounded distant but ominous. He shut his eyes even tighter and clasped his hands over his ears, but that only seemed to encourage the growl’s volume. It grew in depth, vibrato, and tremble, and it reverberated through every fiber of his being.

  “Stop it!” Cameron screamed as he sat motionless, his hands still covering his ears. His hands muffled the scream, but the growl was unencumbered and seemed determined to drive him mad.

  He rocked back and forth and screamed nonsense. “Blahahablaha!” He yelled this gibberish at the top of his lungs, but it did nothing to stop the progress of the growl—his screams coagulated with the noise to form an undefinable, overwhelming audible crescendo that had the physical impact of pushing him further into the blackness. So instead of fighting, he accepted the growl in all its horror.

  Cameron removed his hands from his ears, propped himself onto one knee, and opened his eyes.

  The growl dissipated, but traced in the black was the outline of two evil eyes. Glowing at Cameron’s knee-height, the eyes were murderous green and obviously not human, unblinking and unmoving. They fixated on Cameron with malevolent devotions. He tried to remain composed, but the menacing glare of the eyes was too great; he lost control and his limbs trembled—first his right leg, then his left, then his left arm, followed by his right. Involuntarily shaking completely incapacitated him.

  The eyes approached and grew larger and more detailed as they came closer. Cameron could not turn away from the eyes, and the reality hit him—he had seen those eyes before. He had distrusted those eyes before.

  They were the eyes of the old man. Cameron looked into those terrible eyes earlier that night.

  With that realization, the eyes exited along with the growl. The lights turned on and Cameron found himself on one knee in the middle of the room.

  He heard a bottle of water drop from the vending machine.

  He searched all around, but could find no signs of the eyes or the nothingness. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. Am I going crazy? There’s no possible way what just happened could have been real. But I’ve never felt anything more real in my life. He patted himself up and down to prove at least he was still alive.

  Cameron tried to shake off the experience, stood, and walked over to the vending machine. Bracing himself on it, he grabbed the water, twisted the cap of the bottle, and took a drink. To his dismay, the water tasted like…nothing. And not the normal nothing taste of water, but rather the water was devoid of all taste and all sensation. He could feel the weight of the water pushing down his tongue and opening his throat, but his taste buds had no reaction to the liquid rushing against them. Cameron could not sense whether the water was cold or lukewarm. He had no ability to detect how much water he had swigged. Aside from the physical reactions to the swallowing of water, Cameron’s body provided no feedback about his drink.

  Cameron thought for a moment and came to two conclusions—first, he would not tell Carrie about his experiences with the void or the eyes. There was no point in terrifying her any further, especially if the cause was mere temporary mental instability. Second, he decided he would not bring the water to Carrie, for she might have the same reaction he had towards the water, and again, there was no point in troubling Carrie with defective liquids. She needed sleep more than water, and Cameron would not deprive her of it.

  Yes, he thought. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal, so there’s no need to scare Carrie.

  He threw the water bottle into the trashcan next to the vending machine and rushed out.

  * * *

  When Cameron arrived back at the room, he realized Carrie had locked the door, so he knocked. About thirty seconds later, Carrie answered.

  Her eyes were wide, and she was sweating. “Babe, everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Carrie looked down at his hands and asked, “No luck with the water?”

  “Nope, looked everywhere and couldn’t find a vending machine!”

  “Okay.” Carrie leaned against the open door.

  “You sure you’re alright, sweetie?”

  “Yes, I promise.” Carrie shook her head and put her arms around Cameron. “Just happy to see you and ready for bed.”

  “Good, because I’m always ready for bed with you.”

  Cameron tried to tickle Carrie, but she did not respond. He grabbed Carrie by her lower body, tossed her over his shoulder, and threw her onto the bed. Her body felt limp throughout.

  Cameron lay next to her and kissed her. She kissed back after a few moments and planted her head on his chest.

  Cameron reached over to fiddle with the alarm clock but did not find it. “Babe, do you know what happened to the alarm?”

  She did not respond for a few moments. “I don’t think this room has one.”

  “Really?” he asked. “I swear I saw one earlier.”

  Cameron heard the rustling of wind blowing against the curtains. He let go of Carrie, turned on the light, and looked towards the curtain. “Did you open the window?”

  Again, Carrie did not answer for a few moments. “Yeah, sorry. It was hot in here and I couldn’t find the AC.”

  “Really? Huh.” Cameron stood and walked over to the window. He closed and locked it and spent a couple minutes searching for the room’s alarm. “I know I saw one earlier,” he whispered under his breath.

  “Sweeti
e, just come to bed,” she pleaded.

  Cameron looked at her, confused, and said, “Okay.” He climbed into bed and kissed her on the forehead. “Sorry, I just want to get an early start tomorrow if possible.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll have plenty of time.”

  With Carrie’s reassurance, Cameron relaxed. They kissed and interlocked hands. And though their minds stirred with the day’s events, fatigue soon took over, and they both fitfully fell asleep.

  II.

  Carrie walked into her nightmare, shattering her dreams. Beyond the walls of the room she entered were the heroes and villains of her life’s brief tale. Regardless of their roles, she harbored no ill will towards them—they were the fulfillers of her decisions, so if there was blame to be cast, it should be cast at her alone.

  The room mirrored her state. It was dimly lit and empty. It was clean, insubstantial, and amounted to no more than a transitional step. A dense fog muted the room’s colors and outlines; she could not tell if the fog emanated from the room itself or from the tears that blurred her vision

  Across the room, she saw a nurse behind a window. The nurse’s eyes were as dead as the room’s atmosphere.

  Carrie rubbed her cheeks and nose, shook her head, and walked towards the nurse. “Hi, I’m Carrie Fields. I’m here to see—” she said softly.

  “Yes,” the nurse interrupted with a deadpan tone. “I know who you are, and I know why you’re here.” She grabbed a clipboard and presented it to Carrie. “Please, sign here.”

  She took the clipboard. The paper on it read, “CARRIE FIELDS.” There was a signature line under her name.

  “This is it?” she asked. “I just sign here?”

  “Yes, but once you sign, there is no going back. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  Carrie reviewed the sparse form in her hand and considered all it represented. She picked up a pen resting in front of the nurse’s window. In a quick motion, Carrie signed her name. Her signature looked different from her normal penmanship.

  She looked up and handed the clipboard back to the nurse. Carrie walked towards one of the many dark green chairs that littered the room.

  As she sat, she realized she was alone, both inside and outside the room. There was no one there to hold her hand; no one to comfort her before her life shifted evermore. And the saddest part was that there were many people who would have been there but for her lies and misdirection. She had pushed away everyone who cared about her, and so she sat alone. No one knew where she was or what she was about to do.

  Carrie snapped out of her daydreaming and realized that the “welcoming” nurse had stepped away. She thought about the countless decisions made in this place. How many regrets painted the walls of that sterile room? How many lives changed forever in the halls of that building? She had no way of knowing, but, in a few hours, the number would amount to at least one.

  She suddenly felt a piercing sensation in her stomach unlike anything she had ever experienced. It shot through her gut like a bullet and traveled into her chest. The pain reverberated throughout her body; she fell on the floor and screamed, “Help me! Help me, please!”

  But no one came to her aid. No nurse, no doctor, no friend, no lover. She lay there alone as the pain worsened. She gripped her stomach with both hands and rolled on the floor while yelling, “Help me, please, dammit!” Her voice resonated through the entire room, but only she could hear it.

  She pounded on the floor and scratched at the skin covering her intestines. She banged her head against the ground and punched a nearby chair. Nothing she did slowed the pain; no action she took thwarted its unstoppable advance. The pain gripped her entire body—its terrible march attacked her fingernails, toes, and upper skull. And though her body filled with dull pain, it was the sharp agony in her stomach that sent her into shock.

  And then she heard it. She didn’t know what the sound was, but it came from within her.

  III.

  Cameron stood outside a simple, dilapidated brown bungalow with a gray picket fence. Inside the fence lacked any life; even the grass was yellowing and giving up. And he couldn’t blame the grass one bit.

  Though the evil that once rested within the fence was absent, its memory remained. Someone had wiped away the blood stains, but their residue was intact. Horrors of an uninvited past forever tainted the lawn.

  He shook away the mental cobwebs and walked away from the bungalow. After making his way to the crosswalk, he looked over at the field to his left. He recalled how the field once seemed to stretch on infinitely; but as he stared from across the street, it looked small and insignificant.

  Cameron crossed the street and walked up to the wire fence encircling the field. He opened the door that led to the field and shut it behind him. He made his way to the middle of the field. Once there, he stopped, sat, and closed his eyes. In the darkness, he envisioned a past untarnished by the smudges of his reality.

  A gravelly, menacing noise interrupted Cameron’s daydreaming. He opened his eyes and looked around; there was no one that could help and nowhere to run.

  He lifted himself to a sitting position, sighed, and pushed himself to his feet with his back to the noise. He sensed the noise approaching and, for a moment, he considered running from it. But he also realized the futility of that thought; Cameron could not outrun the noise. The noise would never stop until it had found that for which it came.

  He figured had two choices: close his eyes and let it end in the dark, or turn and face his fear. He chose the latter. He clenched his fists, readied his mind and body, and turned.

  Wicked eyes stared at Cameron from fifteen feet away and primal purposes ticked behind their retinas. Cameron’s fear paralysis set in deeper and he could only watch as fate repeated itself.

  Part Three

  The Restaurant

  I.

  Cameron and Carrie awoke simultaneously, each dripping with beads of sweat.

  “Did you hear that?” Carrie asked. She scanned the room from the bed and realized the sun had arisen outside. The room was much brighter, although it maintained the same stale feel. The sun’s rays highlighted the room’s flaws—the paint on the walls seemed duller, the furniture looked older, and more stains dotted the floor. And, despite the sunlight, the room’s uneventful temperature remained unchanged.

  “Yeah, I did,” Cameron said as he exited the bed. He scurried throughout the room, lifting the chairs, looking under the bed, and checking the closets. He ran into the bathroom and turned on the light. Carrie could faintly hear him investigate every crevice of the bathroom, searching for any signs of the sound’s source. He opened the doors to the bathroom’s medicine cabinet and checked behind the shower curtain. The only sounds that persisted were those that came from Carrie and Cameron.

  His shoulders slumped as he returned to bed and put one arm over Carrie. “I guess it was a dream.”

  “Yeah, but you heard it as well?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  “What did it sound like?”

  “A low, gravelly sound,” Cameron described.

  Carrie’s eyes widened. “That’s not at all what I heard. What did you dream?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Cameron deflected. “Just some meaningless memories from long ago, but with a few extra horrible things thrown in for fun. You know, the usual. I’ve had the same dream many times before.”

  “Seriously, Cameron, what did you dream?”

  “Well, I dreamed that I was outside a bungalow in my hometown. I walked across the street and went to a field where I used to play ball as a kid. When I got on the field, I heard growling and a dog attacked me.”

  Carrie looked down, her head cocked in thought. “I’ve had my dream before, too.”

  “Really?” he asked. “What was it?”

  “Well, I was in a hospital waiting room, and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. The pain traveled all over my body,
and then I heard a noise. The noise always feels so real, but I can never make out what it is. But now I know what it is.”

  “What’s the sound?”

  “It’s the same sound I heard in the car. A high-pitched noise. Like…a baby’s cry. Yeah, that’s what it was…it was the sound of a baby crying!”

  “Wait, really?” he asked. “The sound of a baby’s cry put you in that much agony? Man, what will happen if we do have kids? Will your head just explode one day? I’m not cleaning your brains off the floor.”

  “Shut it,” she said as she pushed off Cameron’s hand. “I’m serious, though. The sound in the car and the sound in my dream were the same. A baby crying. What the heck is that supposed to mean? Am I losing it, Cam?”

  “Well, if you are, so am I,” Cameron said, trying to comfort her. “And we’re in this together, two nuts in the same Mounds bar.”

  She giggled. “Pretty sure Mounds bars don’t have nuts.”

  “What? Yeah, I know…I’m saying we’re not crazy, get it?

  “Mmhmm, whatever you say, Counselor.” She paused and said, “Wait, you heard the sound of a dog growling?”

  “Yup.”

  “Was it the sound in the forest? When you bolted from the forest to the car, you asked, ‘Did you hear it?’ Is that what you heard? A dog?”

  “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “That’s exactly what it was! The sound of a dog growling.” He looked downward and said, “I’ve never understood that dream. I mean, come on. I love dogs. I’ve never even been bitten.”

  “No idea, Cameron.”

  “Well, there is some good news,” Cameron said as he gazed into Carrie’s eyes.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  He pointed to the window. “It’s a new day, baby. And I have a feeling it’s going to be a great one!”

  “I’m glad one of us is positive.”

  “Well, you know what Gandhi said.”