by Mike Kilroy
He looked at Tom, who gave him an encouraging nod.
Solo could feel his heart pound faster. He felt excitement, exhilaration; he felt his nerve rise and his fists clench as he gritted his teeth, his face flushing with blood.
Then Mar blinked her eyes open and purred, “Hey, you.” Her smile was delightful and disarming.
Solo smiled and unclenched his fists, instead caressing her soft cheek with the back of his hand.
Solo would not kill her today.
***
They made great progress, passing through a little town with rows of stores on both sides of a road. A large clock tower rose high in the center of the borough and it was stuck at 12:34.
“I wonder if that was when it all happened,” Mar said, pointing to the clock.
Solo looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand cupped over his brow.
Everything was a clue, Solo thought. No detail was insignificant. He had to stay alert. He had to take copious mental notes if he was to escape.
Mar tapped him on the shoulder. “This is real—just saying. It’s been nearly a year. No delusion can last that long.”
Solo barely felt the passage of time. Every day felt the same in this realm. Every day was just like the one before it and the one after it. “How do you know how long it’s been?”
Mar reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notebook. She leafed through the pages, dark ink scrawled on them with scribbles and doodles of odd shapes drawn in the corners and margins. On the last page was a grid of tally marks. She put the notebook up to Solo’s face and he scanned the grids.
They added up to twenty-three.
“It’s been twenty-three months,” Mar said. “Twenty-three months since the world ended. Is that enough proof for you?”
Solo looked to Tom, who was peculiarly silent. All Tom did was shrug.
Mar stuffed the notebook back into her pocket and spun, peering about at her surroundings. As she did, a frown creased her face, deeper and deeper. “I know where we are. I have to make a quick stop.”
Mar stomped off to the west with Uno barking and chasing her. It took Solo several seconds to realize what was happening before he raced after her.
She walked briskly and with a purpose. Solo caught up to her and asked through his panting breaths, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
They followed a road that wound through rolling fields and up a large hill. Solo’s calves burned as they made their way up the steep climb, finally cresting at the top.
Mar stopped and peered down into the valley. There were houses circling cul-de-sacs, a park complete with a swing set and a teeter-totter, and a shopping center; there was even a Walmart.
“We need more stuff,” Mar said as she sprinted down the hill. Solo again was slow to follow.
This Walmart had seen better days and Mar let out an “ugh” as they walked in.
“Jesus!” She bellowed. “If we are all in your mind, could you at least conjure up a better place than this?”
Solo laughed. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well, it should.”
Mar stepped over rotting animals and cans and clothes and cat litter and beauty products and box fans and linens—pretty much everything Walmart sold in the Before.
There was little to salvage here, but Mar found a few odds and ends and Solo climbed over the counter into the pharmacy to search for useful drugs.
Mar bounded over the counter, too, and grabbed every bottle she could find.
“Wait,” Solo said, reaching out to grab her. “What are you doing?”
“Getting stuff.”
“Most of this stuff we don’t need. Leave it for someone who needs it.”
“Why? Who? Who the fuck is gonna need it?”
“There may be others.”
“Let them find their own Walmart.”
“You should have killed her.” Tom said abruptly.
Solo grabbed her arm. “Put it back, Mar. Just take what we need.”
She peered at him, frozen, and then sulked. “Fine.”
“Thank you, Mar.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Should have killed her.”
“Can’t kill her, Tom.”
“Why not?”
“Same reason why I can’t kill you.”
Tom’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
***
The club face hit the soft grass in front of the man, kicking up a huge divot, a divot just as big and deep as any of his chili-dipped shots today. The man began to cry.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
Solo fixed his eyes on the tree where he had seen Tom.
He was gone.
Solo slumped to his knees and lowered his head. The sirens were loud now and he could hear the sounds of a police radio.
“I need help,” Solo said, barely audible. He wasn’t speaking to be heard, at least not by the people around him now.
Perhaps only to God.
Through his sobs he said, “I need help.”
***
Mar had one more stop to make. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, her lips curled into a snarl and her eyes narrow and full of rage. Her chest rose and fell with angry breaths.
Solo tried to speak a few times, but stopped. He didn’t want her ire to swing to him. “What’s wrong, Mar?” He had to know.
“I hate this place.”
“Then why are we here?”
“I need something inside.”
Mar drew an X on the sidewalk with her chalk, and then took a hesitant step forward, but stopped. She lowered her head and then raised it back up to stare at the decrepit home. The shingles were loose and falling off the structure. The windows were broken and the roof was sagging. The steps that led up to the front door were bowed and looked precarious at best.
“Funny thing is it doesn’t look all that different than when I lived here,” Mar said, taking two big strides forward, hesitating, and then pounding her feet forward and up the rickety steps.
She stood on the welcome mat, faded and worn, and chuckled. “I was never welcome here,” she said as she pushed the door open.
The smell was the first thing that hit Solo. He braced against it, but nothing could prepare him for that strong of an odor. He felt the bile rise up into his throat.
Mar covered her nose and pushed her way through the filth. Clothes and books and legal pads and crumpled up pieces of paper and plates and cups and lamps were strewn all about the floor. Flies buzzed around Solo’s face and he swiped at them with his hands to keep them away.
Mar ascended a staircase, her steps making the rotting wood whine. Solo followed, hoping he wouldn’t break through.
They reached a door, a poster with a cat hanging from a tree limb and the words “HANG IN THERE” in large, bold letters printed across the image of the feline.
Mar took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Rats filed out of the room and Solo jumped at the sight.
“Pansy,” Tom chuckled.
Uno barked and chased them down the steps.
Mar stepped into the room and looked around. She scowled at the posters of musical groups and chiseled young actors with abs and muscles flexing, and at the stacks of notebooks on a desk.
She plucked the top notebook off the stack and leafed through it with a smile. Solo could see scribbles of ink covering nearly every bare surface and more strange symbols in the margins.
She set the notebook down and looked at the calendar that hung on the wall above her desk. It was open to June 2012.
“This was when my world ended,” Mar said. She pointed to a date, the 15th. Written inside of a deep, dark circle in pen ink were the words “FORGET THE REGRET.”
“What does that mean?” Solo asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I forgot—but not the regret, it seems.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember growing up in …
this place. I remember my alcoholic father trying to fuck me. I remember my aloof mother pretending none of that was happening. This room was my only sanctuary. These notebooks were where I escaped.” She peered around the room again and chuckled softly. “I was such a naïve little girl. I used to think the smallest things were so important. Now, that’s all changed. The end of the world grew me up fast. Still think this is all in your head?”
Solo looked at Tom who began to speak, but he knew what he was going to say. Yes, Tom, the devil bitch has a point there, one I can no longer ignore.
“So, you have a Swiss-cheese memory, too?” Solo asked.
“I don’t remember much from before—” Mar paused, opening the drawer to her desk and smiling down at the contents. She pulled from it a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. Her smile was big and wide and she took a deep, soothing exhale. “—the world ended,” she continued. “Everything is really foggy.”
Solo knew the feeling.
“I warned you, didn’t I?” Tom had a strange look on his face. Solo held his breath, heard Uno whimper and then loud footsteps coming up the stairs.
Solo looked at Mar, who shrugged. “Told you you should have killed them.”
They stood at the door, Stocky Guy and Spindly Guy, and they were very unhappy.
“About time you showed up,” Mar said, tossing the men two bottles.
They opened the bottles with their jittery hands and threw back several pills. As they swallowed, they smiled.
“What’s going on, Mar?”
“They’ve been following us since we left. I’ve been marking our path with the chalk wherever we stopped. I told them of this place. They probably knew we’d come here. Sorry.”
The men walked slowly toward Solo. He never took his eyes off Mar, he just stared at her through hurt, wet eyes. His lips quivered with the pain of betrayal and, finally, Mar turned away.
“I truly am sorry, Solo,” she said, not looking at him. “I’m fucked up. What can I say?”
Her soul was tattered and dirty, as unkempt as her tangled hair and as dilapidated as this very house, Solo concluded.
Yes. She was totally marred.
Chapter Six
Before or After?
Solo’s eyes shot open and he gasped. His chest rose and fell with each panicked breath as he looked around the room.
Dr. Hu and Dr. Kline gazed at him with eyes disproportionate to the size of their faces. He was also shocked to see Lydia sitting next to him, her hands covering her mouth. Her eyes, too, were quite large and unwavering.
Solo blinked rapidly until he was sure they were really there, or to be more accurate, he was really here.
Dr. Kline gathered himself and stood. “This is … incredible.”
“I’ve never quite experienced anything like that,” Dr. Hu said, amazed. “I mean, your descriptions of this alternate world are so vivid. Your conversations with these … people, so real. It’s as if you are really living it.”
“I am,” Solo said softly. He didn’t think anyone could hear him.
He was wrong.
“You know you aren’t, right?” Lydia said as she reached out and grabbed Solo’s hand. “It’s all in your head, a defense mechanism or whatever.”
Solo nodded, even though he didn’t quite believe that world was a construct of his mind. Most of him did; however there was still a part of him that doubted.
“You’ve had a real breakthrough today, Morris.” Dr. Hu smiled. “You faced the demons in your mind and came back. You were able to differentiate between what was real and what was a delusion. Please, Lydia and Dr. Kline, I’d like to speak with Morris in private.”
“I’d like to investigate further,” Dr. Kline burbled. “If I could just have—”
“There will be time for that, Dr. Kline,” Dr. Hu interrupted. “Now, I need a minute with my patient.”
Lydia stood and kissed Solo on the forehead. “See you later, alligator.”
Dr. Kline smiled through his creepy, thin lips and hesitantly departed as well.
Dr. Hu’s pleasant grin melted into a frown. “I’m still concerned, Morris.”
“Why?”
“We’re no closer to discovering why you escape to that world. I’m not sure you’re really completely letting go.”
“I’m not sure I am, either.”
“What do you think Mar represents, Morris?”
Solo wasn’t quite sure; perhaps she was the vulnerable part, the part that was easy to trust and easy to be mislead; perhaps the part that felt he wasn’t worthy of kindness or love.
He told Dr. Hu as much and he nodded and smiled. “That’s a pretty sound assessment.”
“But …” Solo’s voice trailed off. He didn’t need Tom to warn him not to say what he was about to say, but it spilled from his lips anyway. “It’s so real.”
“It’s just as real here, isn't it?”
Solo nodded.
“Then they can’t both be real, can they?”
There was certain logic to that. One had to be reality and the other had to be a delusion.
He had to choose. “I guess not.”
“So, what do you think is more likely? A world where nearly the entire population has just vanished off the face of the Earth, where your doll has come to life, where your Uno cards have become a dog, where an invisible figment named Tom is perched on your shoulder and helping you make decisions? Or here, where you are under a doctor’s care and dealing with your illness and trauma?”
Dr. Hu has me there.
I just wish I knew what the trauma was.
“How could I not remember Lydia was my twin sister?” It was a question that ate at him.
“You remembered her, Morris. She was your constant. You focused on her, even in that delusion. You sought her out. Even though you couldn’t find her, it was important that you clung to the hope. There’s no shame in forgetting exactly what she was to you. The important thing was you knew she was always there for you, and she was. Don’t dwell on the negative.”
Solo looked earnestly at Dr. Hu. “What do I do next?”
Dr. Hu smiled. To Solo it was like the embrace of his mother, the caress of a soft hand on his cheek; Soothing like the rain pattering against his bedroom window in a rhythmic song. “Things always look better in the morning. Get some rest. You've had a taxing day.”
***
Solo lay in his bed. The room was as black as a coffin and he heard the wheezing of a sleeping Brown Robe Guy in the bed pushed up against the far wall.
BRG was a wheezer—when he slept, when he prattled on, when he simply sat still and breathed. He was another annoying little man, but he was the only friend he had outside of Dr. Hu in this place.
He thought about that other realm and what had happened to him there. The more he pondered it, the more he realized it was indeed a delusion. It made him feel better knowing he had constructed that world out of some psychosis instead of actually honest-to-God living it because it was a terrible place to be.
He chuckled at the thought: Better to be crazy than doomed.
That’s something Tom would say.
Solo rolled over and took a relaxing breath. For the first time in quite some time he felt at ease.
Then he heard a voice. “Don’t trust him.”
Solo peered over his shoulder to the bed where BRG lay. His wheezing had stopped.
“What?” Solo asked.
“Don’t trust Dr. Hu. He’s not who he seems.” The words echoed in the room and cut sharply through the quiet.
“He seems okay to me.”
“He’s tricking you. He’s messing with your head.”
“No. He’s helping me. He’s helped me already.”
“Don’t trust him. You’re too trusting. You trust people and they fuck you over. That’s why you’re in here.”
“You have no idea why I’m in here.”
“Well, take your chances then.” Solo heard laughter, then a long pause. “A man w
arned is half saved.”
Solo jumped out of the bed and rushed across the room to BRG. He yanked on his shoulder and turned him to see his face in the dim light. “What did you say?”
BRG peered up at him, disoriented and in terror; his eyes, big and wide, fixed on Solo. His lips quivered. All he said was, “Babylon, Babylon, Babylon” in a wheezing voice that sounded nothing like the one Solo had just heard.
“Tom?” Solo asked in a whisper, his eyes darting around the darkness, searching for that scowl through that bearded face. He listened for the scuffling of Tom’s boots. He sniffed for the smell of his rancid breath.
There was no sign of Tom.
Solo peered back down at BRG, who trembled in fear. “Babylon,” BRG said before rolling over and covering his head with his pillow. “Babylon,” he said again, muffled.
Solo walked slowly back to his bed and lay back down, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
“Tom?” Solo whispered into the blackness that was like a void, a purgatory of its own.
He received no answer.
Not sure if that is a good or bad thing.
***
Solo hit the Ping-Pong ball over the net to a man whose name he did not know. Solo didn’t like table tennis—he was more of a card-playing guy. He liked blackjack and poker and even war, despite the futility of the game.
But the packs of playing cards that were seemingly ubiquitous and always at arm’s reach were suddenly missing. So, Ping-Pong it was. The man on the other side of the table swung his paddle ferociously, sending the Ping-Pong ball bounding high and past Solo. The man, proud of his scorching volley, displayed his yellow teeth and red gums in a victorious, albeit rotten, smile.
The man was in serious need of some dental work.
Solo supposed that was the least of his problems. When he missed Solo’s return serve, he began to weep, tears streaming down his bloated cheeks. He rubbed his balding head vigorously.
Solo tried to hit the ball back to him as softly as possible, with one, big bounce so as not to upset Gingivitis Dude. He learned quickly not to upset Gingivitis Dude.
