Her friends were specks of color against the darkness, and she was sure their weapons would induce nothing but the tiniest of pinpricks, an elephant being stung by bees. She watched Coram charge ahead, his sword aflame, the winds so great he was nearly blown aside. When he reached the Abomination, he thrust his weapon into its dark body, a war cry punctuating the attack. As he stood back, pulling the sword free, a pop of light emerged from the wound. It was tiny and hardly noticeable—a white dot that quickly closed up. The Abomination didn’t even notice. Seeing this, Rose felt a chill run through her body. It was like the enchanted blade hadn’t done a thing. She could tell how frightened Coram was by this too. How he just stood there, frozen, looking dumbly at his sword, as if everything had been a lie.
The Abomination continued to creep forward, pulled ahead by its eight legs, its gargantuan body rising up, ready to fall and crush the disillusioned Coram, who stood defeated in its path. But just as it was about to come down on him, a strange thing happened. A crack of white light slowly spread up from the wound. It traveled across the Abomination’s body, zigging and zagging like a fracture, all the way up to its head, and when it got there, the creature reeled back as if in unbelievable pain, a deep bellow escaping its snout like a death knell throughout the land.
A crack of thunder sent tremors through the wind, and the rain came down even harder. Lightning tore up the ground, trees were launched like missiles, and the Abomination writhed.
It worked, Rose thought, rising to her feet. It worked!
Coram’s eyes returned to his sword, his face slack in stunned awe. Finally, he realized what had happened and darted clear of the Abomination’s falling mass. Raising his weapon up so that the others could see, he cried, “Attack!” His voice was shaking with astonishment, the path forward finally clear. “Don’t stop! We can do this! We can bring it down!”
Eo and Meadowrue quickly joined in, their spikes and arrows plunging deep into the Abomination’s body and tearing it apart. White fissures appeared all over its skin, and an unnerving roar rattled the earth. In that moment, Rose couldn’t see her own face, but she knew what was happening by the feeling coursing through her veins. With every blow, the disease was retreating. The Abomination’s pain was her medicine. Her friends were doing what they were destined to do: setting up the battle that could be finished only by Rose. The pain in her throat lessened. Her fingers traced her mouth and down her neck as the color returned to her face. Hopeful, she tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her voice was still muted. They had to go faster.
Lightning continued to strike the ground, and it was almost as if the Abomination itself were aiming the bolts. While Meadowrue and Coram were able to dodge these attacks, however, Eo was hit dead-on. He crumbled to the ground with a yelp, smoke rising from his body. He lay quite still a minute—enough for Rose to go completely numb—but then he was up again, the armor having absorbed most of the blow.
The satellites continued to pour forth from the Abomination’s body at an alarming rate, but they emerged small and weak. Rose figured they must have been produced so quickly they didn’t have time to mature within the darkness. Few were fully formed. Most were missing an arm or a leg, eyes or a mouth. The Order fought them off easily enough, but it left them distracted and tired, vulnerable to the Abomination’s attacks. On the defensive now, it had grown long spiked limbs—they could have been stingers, Rose realized—and they were thrust at the Order as if from the tails of colossal scorpions.
As the earth split open, Coram was knocked to the ground, and a stinger came spiking down for him, aiming to pierce his chest and finish him off. He rolled at the last second, and when the stinger impaled the ground, he chopped it in two. The Abomination howled, its body streaked with white veins as the weapons struck it over and over again. “It’s weakening!” Coram yelled. “It’s vulnerable!” He turned to Rose, his eyes widening as he took her in. “Rose, your face … your throat …”
Everything went silent, the world around her vanishing in a blink. The only sound was of her heavy breaths. Rose knew it was now or never. The disease was in retreat, but her friends couldn’t keep the Abomination at bay forever. Eventually it would overpower them, and Rose would be silenced once again. She had to end this now.
She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, quietly gathering herself. Then, as if one of the lightning bolts had struck her atop her head and coursed all through her body and down to her feet, she sprang forward. She ran as fast as she could, though everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. She raced past her friends, catching the disconcerting mix of hope and fear in their faces. She saw the ground shift beneath her feet, the sprays of dirt from the Abomination’s legs, the bits of earth in the heaving wind. She followed each bolt of lightning from its origin to its end, the growth of the satellites, the deadening of the land. And she saw the Abomination. If it had eyes, she noticed them now as they focused on her. It knew she was coming. Its giant maw opened wide just for her, and she knew she was only going to have one shot at this. And in that moment, Rose wasn’t scared. She was ready.
Standing before the Abomination, she watched as the snout came down to consume her. In the next few seconds, she would either die or destroy everything in the vicinity, including the Order. Fail or succeed. It was as if her friends had been destined to die all along too. They were the last thing Rose saw, and the moment she did, she knew it was a mistake. In those stretched seconds, she saw everything they had shared together. She saw their entire pasts and what could have been their futures. Her heart left her no other choice. In her final moments, she gathered every last ounce of strength she had and let out a sonic blast. The winds the Abomination had ushered in were nothing compared to what Rose unleashed. In a split second, Coram, Meadowrue, and Eo were all blown back as if by a shock wave. They flew for miles across Eppersett. They flew exactly as far as Rose needed them to, and when they landed, they landed safely and out of all harm.
As the Abomination’s mouth opened above her, Rose smiled. And then she was eaten.
She was in the belly of the beast.
In a blink, the world around her had gone away. It was like being dead already. The nothingness. The darkness. A girl lost in eternity.
She could feel two things and two things only: the rapid return of the disease and the acids eating her alive. They were burning through her shoes, and quickly.
She had saved her friends, yes, but at what cost? She had exhausted herself. Once again her throat was constricted by the disease, her voice stifled, and even if her friends were safe from a blast she could no longer produce, they were likely to die a much slower death at the hands of the now victorious and rampaging Abomination. What had she been thinking?
Rose wept.
All her life she had been faced with threats, with struggle and opposition, and they always seemed insurmountable to her. But this was something else. This made those other problems pale in comparison, and she wondered why she ever ran away in the first place. What was so difficult about those battles back home? Why didn’t she ever fight back? Was she not alive? Did she not have her health, her wits, her whole life ahead of her? Her problems were nothing like this. They could have been overcome. They should have been overcome.
In the stomach of the Abomination, Rose felt incredibly small. She felt weak. A victim. The monster had both silenced and consumed her. And after all she had struggled through, there was nothing left to fight with. She wished she could run, but even that option was gone. She had let down her brother after all. She had let down all of Eppersett, and her friends too.
The darkness and the acids ate at her.
What’s wrong with you, Rose?
Though she could still sense its rapturous emotions, its celebratory stomp through Eppersett, the Abomination had fled her mind. She was alone again with her own little voice buzzing between her ears.
What is wrong with you?
“What do you mean, what’s wrong with me? I’m dying. I failed. Can’t y
ou see that?”
You mean you gave up.
“I didn’t give up.”
No? What do you call this? You didn’t even try to destroy the Abomination.
“I can’t! I have no voice!”
And yet you’re speaking now.
Rose paused. She was speaking. The words came out weak and ragged, but they were there. Still, she shook her head. “It’s not enough.”
Not enough? There’s nothing stronger.
“Maybe it used to be. At some point. But I’m sick now. I’m tired. This evil, it … it got the better of me.”
Through no fault of your own.
“That’s nonsense.”
Is it? You succumbed. You’ve allowed yourself to be consumed because you’re too scared to fight back.
“I’m not scared! Maybe I was when I first arrived in Eppersett, but I’ve come a long way since then. I’ve seen unimaginable things, and I’ve fought the whole time. I’ve fought all kinds of monsters. I fought my way here, to the place everyone else had fled. I willingly sacrificed myself to the Abomination, so don’t tell me I’m scared! I’m through being scared!”
Then prove it.
“I …”
The disease can be overcome, Rose. It’s a weakness feasting on your strengths, and you can’t allow that.
“But what am I supposed to do?”
What you’ve been doing. Fight! Fight now, or your whole life will have been for nothing! Fight for your brother, Rose! Fight for your friends! Fight for Eppersett! Just, whatever you do, don’t be silent anymore!
Rose closed her eyes and she noticed a light in her darkness. It was dim, but as she traveled toward it, her body was warmed by its expanding glow. It washed away her fever. There were no fears of death, no regrets or doubts. A small bubble built in her throat, and she said, “This fight isn’t over yet.”
She knew she had to overcome the weakness that plagued her body and to do that she needed to find an inner strength, some hidden reserve that would pull her through. And so she sought it out in the only place she thought it might be hiding. With reckless abandon, she ransacked her memories, every flash frame of her past, every moment of childhood wonder. And there she found her brother. She found her mother. She found her father and her friends, her hopes and her dreams. She found all this and more.
Slowly, she began to vibrate, the white light of her inner darkness seeping through her skin. It emanated from every pore, little pops of illumination. The glow grew and grew and grew. A blinding light that turned the Abomination’s insides pure white. And then she really began to fight. The light traveled from her chest and up her throat. It rolled across her tongue and between her teeth and across her lips. All she had to do now was give it a push.
And in that moment, she gave it the biggest push anyone ever could. A burst of air came barreling up from her lungs, and her voice rang out like the clearest of bells. The light that had been trapped inside her body expanded outward, not just from her hands, but from everywhere. Growing and growing and growing, feeding off the power of her voice. Soon, it encompassed everything, the Abomination overwhelmed by its force. It tried to fight it, but there was no use. Its body expanded along with the light until both light and dark exploded, the glow of Rose’s power overtaking everything. Life as she knew it had become nothing but light. It was everywhere. It was everything. In humble amazement, she watched it consume the world. And finally, it consumed her too.
Rose awoke in the middle of a forest. She was lying facedown in the dirt, spitting whatever she could from her mouth. As she got to her knees, she recalled what had just taken place and ran her hands all over her body to make sure she was really alive. She looked at one side of her hands, then the other; she lifted her shirt to check her stomach; she lifted the cuffs of her pants to check her legs. The disease was gone. Relief washed over her.
Glancing around, she was happy to see that Eppersett had survived along with her, though she couldn’t explain any of it. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
It wasn’t until she got to her feet that she realized she wasn’t in Eppersett anymore. She knew these trees; she knew these paths. These were the woods by her house. She was home.
With unrelenting fluttering in her stomach, she was off and running. It was dusk, the night slowly slipping over the sky like a blanket. Without having any clue where in the woods she was, she was somehow able to find her way out with no problem at all. There was no hesitation, no wrong turns, nothing. It was like something pulled her out of there.
Clear of the woods, her feet hit the pavement of the street, and she tore down the road for her little pink house. Usually, she took as long as she could to get home. But right now, she couldn’t go fast enough.
Seeing her house again sent a thrill spiraling down her spine. It had never looked so good. You’re a beautiful home, she thought, and giggled at how happy she was to be alive. She ran across her brown lawn, staring up at her crooked bedroom window. It was called a witch window, she remembered, so that witches couldn’t ever get in, and reflecting on the horrors of the pyramidal castle, that made her even happier.
Up the cracked front steps, she threw open the door. “Mom!” she yelled, an aching yearning in her voice. “Mom! Dad!”
But there was no answer. She cut through the living room and checked the kitchen, then the bedrooms. How long had she been gone? she wondered. She glanced at the clock, the X’s on her mother’s calendar. A day had passed. She didn’t know how that was possible when she had spent so much time in Eppersett, but that wasn’t her concern right now. She was home. She was alive.
“Mom!”
There was a good chance her parents hadn’t even noticed she was gone, she realized, what with all her mom’s running around, the craziness that was her life, and her dad’s own disillusionment. They never spent much time together anymore; it just wasn’t possible. Her mother said they were often like ships passing in the night, and Rose thought there was nothing sadder. How badly she wished she could see her mother right now. How badly she wished her father could be his old self again.
And then, with a magical tingle in her ears, she heard a car pull up, headlights drifting through the living room window, cutting across the wall, then quickly dying. A smile broke out across her face as she ran to the window and looked out. “Mom! Mom!” She was surprised to find herself near tears. It was like her mother had heard her calling.
Really, she was probably stopping home for a quick something to eat before her night shift at the hospital, but Rose didn’t care what the reason was. She was home.
Rose threw open the front door, leapt every step of the dilapidated porch, and ran down the driveway, practically tackling her mother before she could even fully get out of the car.
“What’s going on?” her mother asked, holding her tight. She kept squeezing, then pulling back to look Rose in the face, then squeezing again. “You haven’t left me any messages. You know I don’t like it when you don’t keep in touch. I get so worried about you.”
Rose felt so warm in her mother’s arms. She knew how lucky she was to have her. A different mother would have given up long ago. But not her. She was a fighter.
“Mom,” Rose said, “I want to go with you tonight.”
Her mother pulled back again, gazing lovingly at Rose, a thumb caressing her cheek. “Go? Go where?”
“To the hospital. Please.”
A slight twitch cut through her mother’s face. “You? Tonight? Rose, you have school tomorrow.”
“I don’t care; I’ll still go. I promise, I won’t complain about sleep or anything. Just please, take me. I have to see Hyacinth.” The glass of her eyes shattered, and the tears fell. “I just have to.”
With a sagging of her face, her mother pulled her in again. “Okay. Okay. Of course I’ll take you.”
The hospital loomed like the Abomination. To Rose, it was just as dark and just as suffocating. Walking the halls, she felt swallowed. Her body shrank—her shou
lders rolled forward, her chin lowered, her arms hugged her chest. It was enough to feel like a little girl again. The smallest of children.
By the time they reached her brother’s room, her heart was beating so hard she thought she could see the swell beneath her chest, as if the organ wished to break free and run. She froze outside the door, her face pale, her breaths heavy.
“Are you okay?” her mother asked. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Rose nodded, her voice slow to emerge. “I need to.”
“There’s nothing to be scared about. Just think of him sleeping,” her mother said. “That’s all. It’s not like there’s a thousand-headed beast in there.”
Her mother smiled at her, a twinkle in her eye, and entered the room. Rose cocked her head a moment, pondering over the comparison. But the moment she stepped forward, her mind was washed white. She thought of nothing but what was in front of her.
The room closed in on her, the bed near the far wall, moonlight falling through the window. The constant beeping of the machines found a rhythm in her heart, their tubes hanging like strands of a spider’s web. Her feet fell into the patter of her younger self. She approached the bed slowly, thoughts of Queen Sequoia and the prince in her head, their blank faces. She reached the bed, and her mother had pulled a chair for her to sit, but Rose didn’t take it. With her chin quivering, she grabbed hold of her brother’s hand. It was cold and stiff, the fingers locked.
Her brother didn’t look like he was sleeping. He looked like he was trapped, a boy between two worlds. Tubes curled up his nose and in his arms, and he looked small in the bed, as if he had shrunk in size.
Rose tried to speak, but her voice was closed off. Nothing escaped. She wanted to say how sorry she was, though she wasn’t sure what exactly she was sorry for. She supposed it was so many things.
His body was suffering, but she knew his mind was still strong. It was fighting. She squeezed his hand tight and again tried to speak. But this time she only let out a quiet sob.
Rose Coffin Page 19
