Last Detour

by Renata Martin

"Fine." He got up again and plodded over.

  "Feel this." She held his hand up to the orange glass and kept hers on top. She could feel the warm vibrations through his skin. He tore his hand away and fell to his knees.

  "Michael." She knelt down and put a hand on his back as he pressed his forehead against the ground, and tears fell into the sand.

  "I'm sorry," his voice cracked.

  "What the hell are you sorry for? You have nothing to be sorry for."

  "I wasn't there for you. I didn't help my friends and now they're dead."

  "Don't say that. What those doctors did to you. I wish I had done something." Now she was crying uncontrollably too, and they put their arms around each other, dampening each other's shoulders, knelt on the sand, surrounded by technicolor light..

  "I love you," he said into her ear.

  "I love you too." She squeezed him hard and didn't want to let go.

  "Uh, I don't want to ruin your special moment but you might want to get up," said Corey.

  They slowly rose and looked at Corey.

  "Over there."

  Where the land met the sky a thick blue mist crept forward like a swarm, swallowing the desert bit by bit.

  "Where did Ben go?" Olivia circled, disorientated by the colors that flashed in her field of vision. She couldn't see him anywhere.

  "We should go back to the car." Zoe's body tensed.

  "No. You can, but I'm staying here."

  "Luke almost drowned the last time you stared down the mist?" Michael's voice got louder, angry almost.

  "I'm embracing it. Anyone can go back to the car, leave me, but I'm staying here." Olivia sat cross-legged.

  "Don't be stupid, Olivia, why take the risk. Nothing good will come of it," Michael reasoned.

  "I came to California to die, and I'm going to get my wish. One way, or another."

  "You really want to die. You still want to die?" His face contorted in a display of conflicting emotions.

  "More than anything. I'm sorry." She tried to remain straight faced. If she let her emotions out now, she would lose her resolve.

  "But I love you."

  "I love you to. I really do, but love isn't enough. It's never been enough. It can't make up for what's wrong."

  "Fine, then I'm staying too." He sat down beside her.

  "I'm in." Corey lit his joint and joined them on the floor. He took the longest drag he could, just in case it would be his last.

  "Well, I'm not going on my own." Zoe sat beside Corey, looking accepting but unconvinced.

  A warm wind came in as if from nowhere, kicking up dirt. Olivia grabbed Michael's hand and squeezed it tightly. He moved it towards her stomach. "I can't believe you're pregnant. About how I reacted... I wasn't myself."

  "It's fine. None of that matters now."

  The mist reached them as a light fog at first, blocking out the scenery. It got thicker and thicker until all she could see was a deep blue. Corey grabbed Olivia's hand, and they all linked in a circle. In the sea of blue in front of her, her eyes started playing tricks. Images flashed up, projected onto the blankness, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed within her and spread out into the mist, becoming part of it. Michael's love radiated to her, vibrating from one particle to another until it reached her, and became part of the matter that made up every fibre of her being. She could see everything. How their life would be. The good times. The hardships. They never gave up on each other. Bits of Michael's past came to her like puzzle pieces. The pressure his parents placed on him. What he felt when they abandoned him completely. All she wanted to do was make it right. She wanted to stay wherever she was right now. This place where everything felt certain, but eventually the blue turned to black.

  FULL CIRCLE

  Consumed with lethargy, and his eyes glued shut as if he had been asleep for days, Michael rolled over onto his side. Gentle birdsong roused him enough to force his eyes open. The first thing he saw were planks of wood that looked familiar somehow. A musty smell wafted past his nostrils, and he shifted on the mattress, dodging displaced springs that stuck into his side. The room was bathed in light and it was only once he sat upright that he knew where he was. He grabbed a bottle of water from the floor and inspected the bottles of oxycodone littering the floor. The water was warm and stagnant, but he was too thirsty to care as his throat burned from dehydration. It felt as if he had awoken from one of the world's worst hangovers and he rubbed his throbbing head.

  Despite the unpleasant feelings coursing through his body, he stood upright, and every muscle ached as if he had run a marathon the day before. So many thoughts fired through his brain, he could not get them straight as they bombarded him. Logic told him that this had all been a fever dream, a hallucination from one too many opiates. It had seemed so real, but it couldn't be true. He wasn't special. He wasn't one of the last men on earth. He had not met the love of his life. He was just some loser addict living in an abandoned cabin. The oxy could really help with the headache, he thought, picking up a pill bottle and rattling it in his hand. It felt like weeks had passed since he was last here. Surely a dream couldn't feel that long? In his world, he hadn't had any oxy since the lobotomy. It's as if the addicted part of his brain had been scrambled along with any emotions. His emotions were back full force.

  No matter how ludicrous he knew, what he had experienced had been real, and he had something he had to do. Pushing the brain fog aside, he bolted from the cabin and ran into the woods. It had been a long time, but he could remember the tree where he had found her like it was yesterday.

  "Olivia," he shouted, causing startled birds to burst from the trees. Maybe she could hear him from here. Maybe it wouldn't be too late. "If you can hear me don't do it." His voice echoed in the forest and dry leaves crunched underfoot. He ran until his chest felt like it would explode, but didn't stop, and by the time he got to the tree, he felt like he might puke.

  She wasn't there. There was no noose hanging from the tree, and the surrounding area was quiet and undisturbed. He wondered if she just hadn't got there yet and if at any minute she would appear between the trees.

  Sitting patiently on a log, he lit up a cigarette and waited. After an hour he wondered if it just wasn't the right time and considered walking to where she had parked her car, but then again, he didn't want to miss her. After three hours, he convinced himself that he was insane. Waiting for some figment of his overactive imagination to appear as if by magic. As the sun began to set, he knew it was too late. Olivia's last words bounced around his head. Love isn't enough. She wasn't coming. He didn't know why it had not occurred to him before. After another hour of contemplation, he headed back to the cabin.

  The cabin was dark and uninviting by the time he got there. The evening shadows only emphasized the lonely emptiness of the place. This was no life for anyone. With the darkness setting in, the solution dawned on him. If what he experienced was real, he could be with her again. All he would need to do would be to join her, and he knew just how to do it. Trying to remember where the whiskey was, he fumbled around the cabin, knocking things off of shelves and getting increasingly frantic. Last time, he hadn't taken enough to overdose, so this time he had to take every pill he could get his hands on.

  He cleared through the whole cabin, checking every drawer and shelf. After he had collected three half finished bottles of liquor and all his stash, he sat on the mattress and mentally prepared himself. The pain was the worst he had ever felt, and he dreaded it. Heart thumping, he swallowed a handful of tablets. They went down easily, so he went straight onto the next. Warm alcohol burned his throat as he swallowed down the next batch. The bottle of bourbon emptied quickly, and he went onto the next. He tossed aside the empty pot of pills and grabbed another. After the first thirty pills, his throat seemed to close up in protest. The chalky, bitter chemicals scraped down his throat with effort. He just kept swallowing. The key for him was to go as quickly as possible. The less time to think, the better. Something started to take eff
ect. The alcohol, pills, or both. It started as peaceful drowsiness, but then the gut wrenching pain began. He hoped he would pass out soon enough. The sedatives should help. After what felt like a good hour, he had finally finished, and laid down onto the thin mattress. In a haze, images of the last couple of months danced through his head, providing comforts in his last moments of conciousness. He would be back with them soon enough.

  TIES THAT BIND US

  The noose cut into her neck, squeezing the life out of her. Olivia jerked from side to side as her body convulsed, tightening the noose even further. The choking, suffocating lack of oxygen came fast, and she knew she only had seconds before she would be unconscious.

  Her feet flailed wildly as she swayed, and her head felt like it would explode. Her foot kicked against the side of the tree as she struggled, ripping bark away from the trunk. She lifted her arms up and tried to grab the noose and lift herself up, but her hands slipped on the rough rope, and her lack of upper body strength wouldn't give her the momentum she needed. Swinging back towards the tree, she managed to wrap her legs around the trunk, taking the weight from her neck.

  The noose didn't loosen, and she couldn't breathe. A tingling sensation travelled down her body, followed by a numbness. Her fingers couldn't cooperate with her brain as she grappled clumsily with the tight knot. Just before her strength gave out, she managed to loosen it enough to feel the blood come flooding back. Gasping, she tried to loosen it enough to squeeze her head out before she couldn't hold on any longer. As soon as the noose slipped over the top of her head, her limbs let go of the tree. Unable to hold any longer and she crashed down to the ground, hitting branches on the way down. A sharp pain shot up her leg as it hit the floor and her piercing scream ripped through the forest like a shock wave, disturbing everything in its path.

  She sat dazed for several minutes before she could force herself to move. As she got up, her ankle twinged, so she put most of her weight on the other leg and dragged herself along, trying to remember the direction of Michael's cabin. She couldn't let their last conversation be the way it ended. That love wasn't enough, that he wasn't enough. The possibility that he may not even be real popped into her head. That everything that happened was just a dream, a hallucination from the lack of oxygen. She refused to believe what she experienced was not real. She knew it was.

  Her feeble body tried to keep up with her brain as she urged it to hurry the hell up. Somehow she started putting weight on her foot. It felt like it was buckling underneath her and the searing pain would not go away, but she had to move quickly; she could not wait another second. She cried with relief as she saw the building there. It wasn't some figment of a near death experience. "Michael," she called as she raced to the cabin.

  She burst through the front door into the darkness. The sun through the open door shone over him, and he looked almost, peaceful. Her feet kicked aside bottles of pharmaceuticals scattered across the cabin floor. She dropped to her knees beside him, and shook him, but he was unresponsive, pale, and covered in sweat. "Come on, wake up." She shook him again. All the pill bottles next to him were empty, along with empty bottles of bourbon and tequila. "I thought you wanted to live." She considered putting her fingers down his throat, wondering if it would help if he vomited, or would that make things worse.

  The sound of footsteps made her spin around. Someone was outside. She grabbed one of the empty bottles as a weapon, crept up to the boarded window and looked through the cracks in the wood. There was green vegetation. Trees. She couldn't see anyone. All she could hear now was the blood pumping around her body as her heart raced in overdrive. Expecting to see the men that killed Dana and Luke, her hands clenched around the neck of the bottle, ready to strike. She would be ready for them, and she would make them pay.

  Something brown appeared in between two trees. Something moving slowly and deliberately. Another wave of dizziness struck, and she struggled to make out the figure. As she struck the table on the way down, the crashing noise gave away her location.

  "Hello. Is someone there?" A male voice came from the other side of the wall, but she couldn't answer, and her vision faded to black.

  ***

  "Hello. Stay with me."

  As Olivia opened her eyes, a man with a brown shirt looked over her. He had a symbol emblazoned on his sleeve.

  "Who are you?" She muttered.

  "I'm a park ranger, medics tending to him."

  "You're real," her throat was sore, and she went to touch her neck. The skin was raw and painful. She could feel the indent where the rope had tug in tightly. The female paramedic turned to her.

  "You're awake," the lady said. "I'm Wendy. We'll be looking after you. Can I ask what happened here today?"

  "He took an overdose."

  "Do you know when he took it?"

  "No, I just found him like this."

  "Looks like you've had a problem of your own. Can you tell me what happened to your neck and why we found you unconscious?"

  "I tried to hang myself, but I changed my mind."

  "Looks like the two of you have been very lucky."

  "The two of us?"

  "I think your friend is going to be all right. His heart rate is good, and he's breathing. Once we give him something at the hospital, he will start improving even more."

  "Thank god," she sighed.

  "Let's check you over shall we?" She wrapped a blood pressure band around her arm securing the velcro. The band squeezed into her arm as the paramedic pumped it up. Olivia could feel the blood pumping. "Did you take anything?" Wendy looked into her eyes. "You kept saying, you're real, over and over.

  "I don't know what I was saying. It's probably just a lack of oxygen." Olivia was elated to be sat in an ambulance. Being looked after. Being safe.

  When the ambulance doors opened, Michael was wheeled out first for emergency treatment. She watched him roll away and tried to assure herself she would see him again.

  CHANCE

  After being interrogated and examined by doctors, Olivia finally had a chance to see Michael. As she was in overnight for observation, she waited for the first available opportunity to leave her room. It had been an awkward and uncomfortable experience, but after being referred to a mental health specialist in the UK, they let up a bit. Apart from Michael and the others, she had never uttered a word to anyone about her plans to commit suicide. First she tried denying it, but the ligature marks and blood-shot eyes were a dead giveaway. There was talk of therapy, of course, and it's not as if she had never considered it, but how could they do anything. She was certain they would repeat the same old weary platitudes and simplistic exercises. It wasn't going to be like in the movies. Talking to someone so intuitive and having a major breakthrough where everything just fell into place. Therapists couldn't fix what was wrong with her, with the world.

  She stopped outside the room and tried to put all the practical concerns out of her mind, like how the hell would they be able to afford this hospital stay? For now, he was alive, and everything was okay. Tomorrow could wait.

  He was already awake when she walked in, and she smiled at him, holding back the tears. "Michael, you're awake."

  "I didn't think you'd be here."

  "Of course I'm here." She sat down on the chair beside the bed, leaned forward and looked into his eyes. "You're going to be fine."

  He looked as if he had only just woken up and scanned the room, looking dazed. "Where are we?"

  "We are where we started."

  "How is that possible?"

  "I don't know. In reality, we shouldn't even know each other." She picked up the newspaper from his bedside table and held it in front of him. "Check out the date. No time has passed."

  Michael didn't look surprised.

  "After the desert I woke up, it was the moment I dropped. The moment I decided to kill myself. It felt like a test."

  "I woke up in the cabin. I went to find you, but you weren't there."

  "That's weird. I guess
time means nothing to us these days."

  "Then I went back to the cabin, and that's when I took all those pills."

  "So you decided to die, and I decided to live. Life is funny like that."

  "I'm such a weak person." He looked down at his hands.

  "No way. Its takes guts to die, and it takes guts to live. We're all just doing our best. That's all we can do."

  A doctor walked into the room. "You're awake." She looked surprised, greeted Michael, and then turned to Olivia. "You know visiting hours are over."

  Olivia said her goodbye's and excused herself. She couldn't wait until the morning so she could see him again. Members of staff rushed up and down the corridors. It felt overwhelming to see so many people. The bright lights. The frenetic energy. She had missed it. It was dark as she stepped outside, looking for the smoking area. She could see cars moving and people going about their business and it felt so surreal. There was something enjoyably voyeuristic about people watching. Not participating, just observing. She pulled a cigarette out of the pack and placed it between her lips.

  ***

  After taking a wrong turn in the maze-like corridors, Olivia found herself by a vending machine and wondered if she could blag some change off someone. As she turned, her mouth dropped, unable to understand how it hadn't occurred to her earlier. "Oh my god, Dana. You're alive! You remember me right."

  Dana sat in a wheelchair looking worse for wear, but at least she was alive. "I woke up from my coma yesterday. I thought I had imagined you." She smiled and wheeled herself closer, grabbing Olivia's hand, as if to check she was real.

  "What about the others?"

  "I don't know."

  "I forgot to say. Michael is here. You could see him tomorrow if you want."

  "That would be amazing."

  "Dana, what happened when you died, like afterwards? Did you feel anything?"