Mayhem

by Artist Arthur

  Looking up, I quickly spot Pace still dragging Krystal, trying to get out of the corn maze. I take off running, my feet barely touching the ground. Coming up on them quickly I grab Krystal out of his grasp, tossing her to the ground. Pace turns to me ready for a fight. Then something in his eyes changes and he backs away. I move forward, reaching for him, grabbing him and throwing him far. He crashes to the ground with a sickening thump and I’m about to leap toward him again. A hand on my arm stops me.

  “Jake,” Krystal says.

  My neck cracks as I turn to see her tear-streaked face. Her hair’s a streaming mass of black, blowing behind her in the horrific wind.

  “Let me go,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “No,” she says holding me tighter.

  I grab her wrist, the one of the hand holding me. I see the pain etch across her face but I can’t stop it. “Let me go,” I say again. And it’s in that strange, deep voice that I seem to own but don’t recognize.

  Her fingers unclench from my arm, and when I let her wrist go she stumbles backward. I don’t think another instant, just turn and run.

  I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know who I am. I feel so different. Stronger, more powerful than ever before. Around me everything is chaos but I’m in control. Of me and what I do, I am in control.

  I’m through the corn maze now, kids all around me are running to cars, cars are streaking out of the parking lot. The cider and apples stand has blown away, sending apples and pumpkins rolling all along the ground. I look around once more and stop dead in my tracks.

  At the end of the parking lot is a lady, a billowing dress of all white rippling around her. She looks familiar, and I hear her calling my name.

  “You must fight him, Jake. He’ll kill you just like he killed William.”

  Emotion slams into me with vicious force. A tirade of feelings: joy, hurt, confusion, elation, pain, sorrow. I can’t stop one to keep the other, can’t move to claim either. But it’s her. After all this time, all this wondering and longing, it’s her.

  “Mom,” I whisper and take a step closer.

  But when I get there and reach out to touch her, she disappears.

  And so does all the commotion around me. Everything has stopped. The wind. The hail. The screaming. There’s nothing.

  Just me.

  And the power that has me crumpling to the ground.

  fifteen

  Strength—one regarded as embodying or affording force or firmness

  Merriam Webster’s Dictionary

  I wake up staring at the chipped ceiling of my room. My chest feels like something’s sitting on me, and when I move my tongue around inside my mouth it feels like I swallowed a handful of cotton. The rest of my body is protesting, every joint and ligament screaming in agony. The urge to moan is great but I have no idea who’s in the room with me so I’ll refrain.

  How did I get here?

  The last I remember I was at the corn maze. Well, running out of it, then I collapsed in the parking lot. After I saw her. My mother, I mean.

  It had been ten years since I’d seen her and yet she looked exactly the same. I guess my last memory of her would logically be the more lasting one. Her hair was still long and shiny, the color of wheat, and her skin still looked smooth, like ivory. Gray eyes stared at me with that sympathetic and caring look she’d always had. And when she reached her arms out to me I could see the blunt cut of her clear-coated nails. The ache in my chest increased until breathing felt more like a chore than necessity.

  Where had she come from? Where had she been all these years? Where was she now?

  Mom. I said her name in my head, wondering if that’s where she’d been all along and if she’d answer me. I never used to be the sort to talk to myself or believe that I could answer myself. But now, now, I guess I’m willing to give it a shot. Anything that will bring her back. Just for another few minutes so I can ask her why. Why she left. Why she didn’t love me enough to stay. Why weren’t Dad and I enough for her. And how she knew about Uncle William.

  My eyes fill with tears I’ve been holding back for the longest time. I will them not to fall, to stay put. I’m almost sixteen years old, there’s no use in crying over things I can’t change. Especially not now.

  Still, when I inhale slowly, praying the weight in my chest will let the oxygen through, I can smell her. Like vanilla and Fruit Loops, those are the scents I associate with my mother. The woman who gave birth to me but left me just the same.

  “You need to tell him the truth.”

  I hear the voice but it doesn’t really startle me. I’d sensed I wasn’t alone.

  “Shhh.”

  “I won’t shhh. It’s time.” There was a gravelly cough that sounded a lot like it brought up more than I cared to think about.

  Through the fogginess in my brain that was still compiling the events of the night I can hear my dad and Pop Pop talking. They’re talking about me and over me like I’m not even here. I guess if I acted like I was among the land of the living they’d acknowledge me. So with a little effort and a small amount of aching I sit up in my bed. Turning to let my feet hang off the side I look up at the two of them, standing in the middle of my bedroom like I’d summoned them here.

  “Tell me what?”

  “You’re up. Good boy,” Pop Pop says, coming to sit on the bed beside me. He lifts a hand and grabs my chin with his shaking fingers. “You look fine, too. Been through a lot, though. More to come I’m afraid.”

  He’s talking in those riddles again. Like he’s reading from a page in a book but only reading every other sentence or so. I get the meaning but don’t understand why he’s saying it to me. I have to agree with him though, I think it’s time they told me the truth.

  “You said Mom left,” I accuse my dad. “If she left why’d she come back tonight?”

  “Told you so,” Pop Pop says, letting his hands fall back in his lap.

  Dad looks beyond tired, his shoulders are drooping as he takes a seat in my wobbly desk chair. Leaning forward he rests his arms on his knees and looks up at me reluctantly. “She was killed,” he says finally.

  “By who? Why?” I want to know everything right now because if I do then maybe I won’t feel so lost and unwanted anymore. Maybe, for once in my life, I’ll feel like I belong somewhere and to someone who wanted and loved me.

  “Jake, you don’t understand how this other world works. You have no idea what they can take from you, what they’re asking of you. And it’s not fair, dammit! They have no right. Not to her and certainly not to you.”

  “The longer I don’t know the worse it’s going to be. I’m being pulled in so many directions now I don’t know what to do.” That’s the closest I’ve come to admitting to anyone that Charon’s seducing me to the Underworld. The minute the words are out I feel invaded, like my words are no longer my own.

  “She had that same mark you have. It was the first thing I saw when I met her in high school. It was still hot out and she’d worn this shirt with two thin straps over her shoulders. On her right shoulder blade there it was. An M. I stared at it for a long time. So long my friend Eddie thought I was looking at her butt,” he says with an absent chuckle.

  Pop Pop laughs. “Probably was looking at that, too.”

  My dad looking at my mom’s butt, please just gouge my eyes out before giving me that visual again.

  “Cecelia was like a shining star in that old school. She was the prettiest and the smartest and she didn’t care what anybody thought about her, she knew she was special. One day, she told me just how special she was. Well, she showed me when she held light in the palm of her hand.”

  “Mom was a Mystyx,” I say, finally digesting what he’d said. “She had power and that’s why I have it.”

  “You have it because the goddess saw fit to give it to you,” Pop Pop corrects. “It’s not hereditary, but a gift chosen with the utmost care.”

  “I thought you said anyone who got pregnant during
a storm, the kids would have the power.”

  “She controls the storm.”

  “By herself?” I ask, because Charon said he had some doing in the storms as well. And what happened tonight, the hail and the wind and rain, that was definitely Charon’s doing, the tinge of evil in the air was definitely his leftover energy.

  Pop Pop looks to my dad, who just sighs.

  “There’s good and evil, Jake. And there’s a curse that’s traveled through the realms of time, landing smack in the middle of Earth. These creatures don’t care who they hurt in this tug of war they’ve created, they’re fighting a war that will never end. As long as there’s free will there will be good and evil. No one more powerful than the other, both just occupying space in this atmosphere.”

  “That’s not true,” Pop Pop interjects. “The balance can be tipped and that’s what he was trying to do. To tip the scales in his favor. In the favor of evil. Now, only a Vortex can do that. You are one of few left in this world,” he tells me.

  “But isn’t the goddess evil, too? I mean her river circled the Underworld, that’s like the home of all evil.”

  “We’ll never understand their world, Jake. Because we’re not a part of it.”

  “He is,” Pop Pop says adamantly. “You can’t bring him to this earthly world because that’s where you’re from. He’s a part of both.”

  “How can that be?” I ask. “How can I be supernatural and human?”

  “You’re special.”

  Dad sighs. “I’m not debating that issue, Pop.”

  “My brother was special, too, he had the power. But he didn’t fully understand what his power was and how it could affect the entire world, not just this world but theirs, too. There aren’t many Vortexes but he needs one on his side, he needs to claim you to fight her.”

  My head’s reeling with what I’m hearing. “He, meaning Charon.” I look at Pop Pop. “I’ve met him already, so I know exactly who he is. He needs me to join ranks with him to fight against the goddess Styx. But Styx chose me to be a Mystyx to fight on her side. Is that about right?”

  Dad’s nodding, his eyes looking more somber by the minute. “Why can’t we just deal with things like puberty and failing Chemistry? This is not the way I intended for you to spend your teenage years.”

  I shrug. “If I could have chosen I’m sure I would have selected the normal button, too, Dad. But what am I supposed to do now?”

  “You have to pick a side, Jakey,” Pop Pop says solemnly. “Good or evil.”

  “Your mother vowed to protect you from him, to even use her power to cover you with light that would forever hide you from him,” Dad says. “But he found out and he killed her for her efforts. She always said he’d destroy anyone who tried to keep you from him. But I don’t care, I won’t let him get you too, Jake. I just couldn’t stand it if I lost you, too.”

  The hug from Dad takes me by surprise, but I have to admit his husky arms wrapping around me feel kind of good. For just the time that he holds me I feel protected and safe, like Charon or nobody else can touch me.

  In the back of my mind there’s a chuckle, and I know that my previous thought’s just wishful thinking.

  Charon is here and he’s waiting. If I choose the Mystyx I’ll end up dead, like Uncle William and my mom. If I choose Charon and the Underworld…I don’t even want to think about that.

  I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s late and it’s starting to rain again. I’m shivering, my teeth clattering as I stand here looking up at her bedroom window. The same window she’d broken out a few months back when she thought the dead people she could communicate with were trying to attack her. Somebody, somewhere was on my side because there’s a huge tree in her yard that—guess what?—has a branch that hangs really close to her window. Without another thought I’m climbing up the tree. Haven’t done this in years but it seems just like riding a bike.

  When I decided to leave my house and walk all the way over here I don’t really know. But I’m here and I want to see Krystal, to hear that no matter how confused I am or how much is going on, we’re still together like a normal couple. Remembering the events of the night I don’t know if she’s going to be very receptive to my presence, especially considering the time and the fact that I’m about to tap on her window like some teenage stalker. Actually, that’s not funny, since Krystal was kind of being stalked by one of our teachers who wanted her to join his porn ring, but we try to keep that in the past.

  Tapping on her window feels weird. I wonder if she’ll think I’m a ghost. I know she says she ignores them sometimes, especially in the middle of the night. Hopefully she won’t ignore me. Otherwise I’m out here on this limb freezing my butt off for nothing. Waiting a few minutes, I note the breeze blowing and the swaying of this tree. I probably should have called her cell phone to at least wake her up. This whole trip was impromptu, initiated by the deep-seated loneliness I’d felt when I woke up. After the fretful sleep I’d fallen into with the newfound information I had, it was no wonder.

  Just as I was about to give up and walk back home I hear the latch to the window. Looking up I see that she’s pushed the curtains aside.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers when she gets the window opened. “Why are you out there in the tree at two in the morning?”

  Good questions, both of them. Shrugging was not a good answer, but she waved me inside anyway.

  I’ve been in her room a couple of times before, but always with Sasha and usually with the door open. And each time was before Krystal and I went from being fellow Mystyx to boyfriend and girlfriend.

  It feels different even though it looks the same. She’d switched on the Betty Boop lamp beside her bed so there was a dim light throughout.

  Her door was closed, the sheets on her twin-size bed ruffled. But the most different thing was Krystal. I’ve seen her in several outfits, casual jeans and T-shirt, dressy for the dance at school and even in a bathing suit at the pool. But never like this. Never in this…I don’t know what exactly to call it. Whatever it is it’s very short, showing off all her cream-colored legs. Her arms are out and her hair’s in a messy ponytail. She looks unkempt but sexy. So like I said before, it feels different this time.

  “What’s going on? Why are you here at this time of night?” she asks, going to her bed and plopping down.

  I don’t know if I should follow her and sit beside her on the bed, where she looks all soft and dreamy, or if I should keep as much distance between us as I possibly can. Fool that I am, moving closer wins out and I sit on the edge of her bed just an arm’s length away from her.

  “Wanted to talk about tonight,” I say. “I’m really sorry about grabbing you like that.”

  She sighs and waves a hand as if to say don’t worry about it. “I can’t stop thinking about it. What do you think happened out there? Lindsey’s a wreck. I tried calling her when I got home but Mrs. Hampton said she was already sleeping. I doubt that, since she was so worked up on the ride home.”

  I don’t even remember the ride home. Dad said Twan and the others dropped me off, dragging me to the door and waiting for him to answer. They must have scooped me up from the parking lot.

  “It’s following me,” I tell her because I feel like I can trust her. Even if I can’t tell the others, I can definitely tell Krystal.

  “What’s following you?”

  “The bird.”

  She waves a hand as to dismiss what I just said. “The birds have been following all of us. Remember my scratched-up face from the encounter in front of the library? And my scalp’s still sore from that night at your house.”

  I’m already shaking my head. “It’s not like that. Not all the birds, just one.” I clear my throat, rubbing my sweaty palms down my thighs. “It talks to me.”

  “Who talks to you?” she asks, looking at me suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you can talk to spirits, too?”

  “No,” I say then turn a bit so I’m facing her. “The raven talks
to me. Its voice is in my head all the time now. Telling me stuff, making me do stuff, asking me to do stuff.” I stop because it’s hard to say, harder to hear myself saying. I really want her to believe that a bird’s trying to turn me evil. I guess it’s just as high a probability as the fact that she can talk to and see ghosts.

  “Wait a minute,” she says, shaking her head. She’s pulling her legs up so that it looks like she’s kneeling on the bed. At the same time she’s pulling the ends of that shirt she’s wearing down. It’s not working, I can still see a lot of her legs. My hands are still sweating.

  “Are you saying that there’s a raven following you? What’s it telling you to do?”

  I hesitate. This isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be, especially since I really want to touch her. I want to just sit here and hold her and kiss her and not think about all the dark stuff going on inside and around me.

  “It knows about the power and things just happen, like all of a sudden I’m super strong. Stronger than I ever was before. And I’m so sick of these powers. I just want things to go back to the way they were.” But I don’t, not really. Before, I didn’t know. Krystal and I thought my mom had left me because she wanted to.

  “I don’t understand. How can the raven talk to you? I guess that sounds strange coming from the one who sees and talks to spirits. But why you? Both me and Sasha have been attacked by the birds, but never any kind of verbal contact.”

  “I don’t know why,” I say and realize with a start that I’m still lying to her. Why? I should be able to trust her with all of the truth, not just bits and pieces. But I can’t. What will she think of me if she knows I have evil in me? Will she still want to be my girlfriend?

  “What about your powers? You said you’re stronger. Is there anything else, like something new you can do?”