by S. C. Green
“Where did you find Annabelle’s grave?” I called out to Red. “I’d like to see it.”
He inclined his head in the vague direction of north. “I don’t want to sssee it again. Shhhe isss not there.”
Because of all the time I’d spent with him, I really was curious to see Annabelle’s grave. But I didn’t push it. Instead, we walked on in silence, Red’s head bending low toward Harriet’s in conversation.
On the other side of the cemetery, the factory loomed. It had been behind the wall we’d erected in an attempt to quarantine the wraith back when I used to believe the government was attempting to save the city. I had walked the length of that quarantine area several times, trying to figure out how the small nuggets of knowledge we’d gained about the wraith could be used to destroy them. We’d scoured the factory’s inventory statements, trying to recreate the chemicals that had caused the explosion, trying to understand how the wraith came to be.
Now the factory’s broken facade came into full view. Petrification had completely claimed the building. It bore no resemblance to the gleaming, modern factory I remembered. Instead, the surface bubbled with stone protrusions so it appeared to be some kind of cyclopean structure rising from the crust of the earth.
We crossed an empty car park littered with trash and debris. Broken chunks of tombstones had smashed through the glass in the lobby area. That must’ve been some blast from the Mimir when Sydney destroyed it. I marvelled at how they all managed to survive.
Harriet busted out the rest of the glass with the butt of her rifle, and we stepped through. Inside, we walked through a lobby into a large office space filled with cubicles. The floor was buried beneath a thick layer of file folders, paper, and odd piles of white-grey sand. My feet slipped on the shiny file covers as we gingerly moved across the room. At the back, we cut through a small kitchenette and out into a small courtyard. Across the courtyard, the door into the main factory hung on a single hinge. More sand piled, swirling around us as we shuffled outside.
“Where did all this sand come from?” I asked.
“That’s not sand,” Alain said. “It’s the remains of people who have been husked by the wraith. Eventually the husks crumble away, and this is what you’re left with. There must have been a lot of people husked here, probably during the early days following the dome coming down.”
I leapt out of the sand and onto concrete, horrified by the sight of it. The others just carried on walking as though it were no big deal. I guessed to them, who had lived in this horror for so long, it wasn’t.
“This way.” Harriet pointed at the large building on the other side of the courtyard. “The storage rooms are through here.”
I glanced across at Red, who followed close behind Harriet. She certainly looked as though she knew where she was going. But how?
We entered a narrow corridor, lined with pegs and lockers for the workers to change between shifts. At the end, the room opened up into a great cavernous space, shrouded in gloom. A metal staircase twisted up three storeys with gangways crisscrossing the huge machines where the chemicals were mixed and baked. Along one wall, enormous storage vats sat waiting for new concoctions. Sand – or people dust – had piled up against several outside windows, blocking out the grey light and casting the whole factory in a dark gloom. A large hole in the roof – jagged iron sheets curling up around the sides of it – and scorch marks along the walls indicated the epicentre of the explosion. Machinery lines covered every inch of the space, many torn up or overturned by the force of the explosion, the metal shards mingling with the gritty remains beneath my feet. A sickly sweet smell permeated the air, faint but still strong enough to burn up through my nose.
A chill ran across my neck. I pulled my coat collar up as goosebumps crept down my spine. It wasn’t wind – there could be no breeze inside the dome. The hairs along my arms stood at attention, as though someone were standing right behind me, watching me do something I wasn’t supposed to do. I whirled around, but there was no one standing behind me, just an upturned conveyer belt and some broken links of a large chain. All the machines were coated in a fine layer of dust. A scattering of bootprints showed only three people had entered the room.
Above my head, something creaked. I scanned the room, but couldn’t see anything moving. The nagging sensation persisted. We weren’t alone. Someone was watching us. Something was definitely wrong here.
Harriet ...
That was it. That was what was wrong. Harriet was wrong.
She was up ahead, crouching low, her gun poised as she peered around the corner. Then she swung around and swept this room again. I fought the urge to duck out of the way as the barrel slid past me.
She’s wrong. She’s dangerous.
I didn’t know how I knew, but I knew. Call it mother’s intuition. If May had brought this girl home from school, I would have forbade them from seeing each other.
I opened my mouth to say something, but what could I say? I was the outsider here. I had no right to say anything, especially since I couldn’t pinpoint how I knew something was off.
Harriet’s gaze connected with mine. She blinked, and her face flickered with something. Fear? In a moment, it was gone, replaced by her usual blank rage.
“Over here.” She lowered her gun and jogged behind the ovens, leaping over broken machine arms with ease.
Alain and May swooped after her. Sydney made to follow, but I grabbed her hand.
“Sydney?” I said, my voice low. “I need to tell you something.”
“Right now?” She glanced uneasily up at the machinery as something creaked over our heads.
“This morning in your hallway, I was talking to Red about immortium. He said that he didn’t know where it was stored in the factory.”
“So?”
“So, how does Harriet know where to find it? She’s leading us to the location as though she knows exactly where it is. I thought you said none of you had ever set foot inside the chemical plant before.”
Sydney’s face twisted. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll talk to Harriet. I don’t want any surprises here.”
“Is that really a wise idea? She doesn’t seem like the most stable of people. And she’s got a really big gun.”
“She’s fine. I’ll deal with it. Thanks for the info.” She shoved past me and raced behind the ovens. “Harriet, wait up.”
Alain perched on a rusting gangplank above the ovens. I gave him a nod. He nodded his head in reply.
I walked behind the large ovens, my shoes echoing through the enormous space. In the distance, a gargling sounded, like water moving through a pipe. Goosebumps shot down my arms, and the hairs along my scalp lifted. Something about this place gave me the creeps.
Out of the corner of my eye, a shadow moved on the edge of the conveyor belt. I turned, expecting to see May fluttering down, or perhaps Harriet back to torment me. There was no one there. I squinted hard, leaning forward to peer around the corner.
You’re seeing things. Your eyes are playing tricks on you. You’re just nervous because Harriet is still waving that gun around.
A cold wind whooshed past my ear. I spun around, but there was nothing behind me. Shit. Maybe I was wrong about Harriet. That wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been.
There’s someone … or something … else here.
I trained my eyes on the conveyer belt, tensing my muscles, ready to pounce. I jumped as a voice penetrated the silence.
“Raine, hurry up. I don’t want to lose you,” Sydney said.
“Coming.” A sliver of warmth fluttered through my chest that she even cared.
With a last look back over my shoulder, I jogged toward the sound of her voice. I came around the back of the ovens and found her and Harriet standing together, talking in low voices.
Harriet’s face was set in a frown. “... this isn’t the time …” she was saying.
As I walked toward them, Sydney’s whole body stiffened. I thought she was reacting to my
presence, but she leaned out and squinted behind me.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
Harriet rubbed her temples. “What?”
“Gurgling. It sounded like something stuck in a pipe.”
“I heard it before.” I pointed in the direction I’d come from. “And I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.”
“It could be anything,” Harriet snapped. “Every step we take, we’re disturbing debris.”
“That noise wasn’t someone tripping over a pipe,” Sydney said, eyeing the space over my shoulder.
“These chambers control the chemical reactions.” Irritation laced Harriet’s voice. She pointed to the cylinders high above our heads. “Some of them were still active when this place was evacuated, and they’re breaking down. Chemicals leaking from a small hole or through the pipes would cause a noise.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
Sydney shot me a look, but I ignored it.
“My father used to work here,” Harriet said quickly, her eyes flicking away. “Back before … everything.”
“Is that why you know where we’re going?” I asked.
Harriet lifted an eyebrow and tapped a fingernail against her rifle.
Sydney shook her head at me, but I pressed on since now was as good a time as any for demanding answers. “You’re leading us to exactly where the chemical is stored. Did your father show you around all the hazardous chemical storage?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Harriet glared at me then turned away. She pointed her gun down the next row of ovens. “What are we waiting for? A written invitation?”
She raced away, Sydney jogging after her. I forced myself to move forward, but as I passed the next oven, I heard the noise again. A definite gargle, like water forcing itself up through a tiny gap.
All my fears solidified into a grim sense of foreboding. Something was wrong with this Harriet girl, and it wasn’t just her trigger-happy nature.
Above my head, May screeched. The terrified sound catapulted through the cavernous space, appearing to come from everywhere and nowhere. Panic surged in my stomach, and all thoughts of Harriet flew from my mind. I craned my neck to see. Where was my daughter?
As I stared at the gangplank, May’s raven took off from the railing. She arced across the ceiling, screaming as though she’d been gravely injured.
My whole body tensed. “May!” I grabbed the edge of the nearest ladder and hauled myself up onto the gangway. I raced after her, flailing my arms to get her attention.
She flew in wild circles around the ceiling, too panicked to even see my gestures. Alain swooped up after her, but she brushed right past him without stopping. Helplessness weighed heavy on my chest. What was wrong with her? Had she been hurt?
“May!” I kept waving to her, trying to get her to come down. “You have to tell us what’s happened.”
But she flew out of a hole in the roof and disappeared from sight.
“May!” I grabbed the railing, forcing the feathers to push through my skin once more. My jaw ached as it stretched out, contorting into a long, hooked beak. Forget Red. Forget the immortium. I had to go after her.
A hand clamped over mine from behind. Alain’s voice rasped in my ear. “Don’t go after her. She’s okay, just frightened. It touched her.”
“What touched her?” I demanded.
“I saw it appear beside her, but I wasn’t close enough.” He dragged me along the gangplank back toward the cylinders.
The gargling noise came again, louder this time, filling my ears. “Alain, what’s going on?”
“Can’t you feel it?” He squeezed my arm so hard, I was starting to lose feeling.
For a moment, I didn’t know what he meant, but then I realised it. The deep-rooted sensation gnawing at my bones. The itch, the familiar crawl of a soul across my skin. I’d been so used to feeling hundreds every day outside the dome, that I hadn’t registered a single presence here. Until now. The signal was faint, as though this spirit had been waiting years for release. Someone nearby badly needed to be reaped.
The panic seizing my chest eased. At least this was something I could handle. Unlike Harriet and my own daughter, a single lost soul was within my realm of control.
“Who’s there?” Alain called. “Please show yourself. We promise we’re here to help you.”
A shadow stepped across the gangway in front of us. It was the shape of a human man, his head bent down, his dark overalls covered with red stains. Through his body, I could still make out the steel gangway and cylinders beyond. It was not a man at all, nor a wraith, but a ghost.
The soul of a dead human who had never been reaped to the underworld. A lost spirit who had been tethered to the earth, to this derelict place, since its death.
But how? Every other person in the factory had been husked, their souls used by the wraith for food, for fuel. I had the remains of them on the bottoms of my boots. How had this man escaped their notice?
“Hello,” I said. “I’m Raine. This is Alain. We can help you.”
“Gggggg…” The figure tried to speak, but something blocked his mouth. He put his hands up, trying to free the object, tugging at something. His stringy hair hid it from view.
“Is something wrong?” I took a step closer.
“Don’t!” Someone shrieked behind me. It was May. She’d come back and was now crouched behind her father, eyes wide with terror.
Her voice gave me a burst of courage. I took another step toward the ghost, calling up my power within me, letting it bubble inside my chest, ready to release.
Wait. I blinked in dismay. There’s no Mimir inside the dome. Sydney said they’d destroyed it. I wasn’t an elder, so I had no way to open a portal to the underworld without a Mimir. Neither did Alain or May. This poor ghost was stuck here.
The figure swung around toward us, his throat tipping back like a bobble head. A pair of yellow eyes burned into mine. I choked back a scream. The ghost lifted his chin as he drew nearer, and I saw what was causing the horrible noise.
The man’s mouth hung open, his lower jaw jutting out at an inhuman angle. A long steel pipe protruded from his mouth. It explained why he shuffled forward with his head thrown back – the pipe seemed to be shoved right down his throat. He made another gurgling sound that rolled my stomach.
Behind me, May wasn’t quite so skilled at hiding her horror. Her scream echoed through the huge factory, thrumming against all the steel and iron.
“Sydney, don’t—” May flung out her arms as Sydney surged forward from behind her, wrapping her fingers around Sydney’s arm and holding her back.
“Sir?” Sydney shook off May and stopped next to me.
What? She can see him?
She reached out a hand. The man lurched forward, his eyes rolling. Her hand passed right through the man’s chest. She lept back, holding her wrist as though her hand might fall off.
“Wh-wh-wh-what is that?” she whispered.
“It’s a spirit, a ghost. How can you see him?”
“You mean, I’m not supposed to?”
“Most humans don’t,” I said. “Except, sometimes they do. That’s why so many people report ghost sightings. But it’s definitely not a common thing.”
“I’ve never seen a ghost before.”
Alain sidled up next to her and grinned. “There’s a first time for everything, so...congratulations?”
“What does he want?” Sydney asked.
The ghost gargled, gesturing to the pipe protruding from its throat.
“The same thing ghosts always want,” Alain explained. “He wants to cross over. May, do you want to do the honours?”
“But...” I moved to grab Alain’s arm so he’d look at me. “How can May do that? She doesn’t have the ability to open a portal to the underworld without the Mimir, and I don’t see any Elders around here.”
For the first time since I’d seen him again, Alain didn’t flinch away from me or my touch. That one
fact gave me a tiny sliver of hope, but it withered away with his frosty look.
“We don’t need the Mimir anymore,” he said.
“You don’t … What?”
May nodded, coming up next to me. “Alain and I can make our own portals. We’re free to come and go from the underworld as we please.”
“How?”
Alain placed his arm around Sydney’s shoulders. “Sydney. She reached inside the source of the Mimir and severed the link that kept pulling the wraith back into this world. Doing that while we were inside seemed to somehow break our dependence on the Mimir. Now when I call up my power, the portal appears without needing the Mimir to power it. It’s definitely more draining this way, but we can do it.”
Well, that was quite extraordinary. “Show me.”
May took a few hesitant steps forward, likely wishing the ghost was a familiar wraith. The ghost, sensing her true form, staggered toward her, his arms thrust out as his head bent back. That metal pipe hummed as he tried to speak around it, and my teeth ached as though I were scraping them against metal. He stretched his fingers out to May.
May opened her arms wide, fingers splayed outward. Feathers flew from her body, fluttering around her like black moths attracted to a flame. A powerful wind came from nowhere, whipping her coat around her legs. I staggered back against the force, my thigh hitting the rusting railing. Alain pushed me behind him, beside Sydney.
May’s tall frame shrunk into itself, her coat flying about her body, forming her beautiful wings. The wind increased, becoming a tornado enclosing both her and the ghost. The gangplank jerked and groaned beneath us as Sydney, Alain, and I steadied ourselves against each other.
The humming of the metal grew louder, the pain spreading through my teeth into my head. I forced my own shift, the prickle of my feathers piercing through my skin. I needed to experience this for myself, to understand exactly what my daughter could now do.
Now fully in her raven form, May landed on the man’s shoulder, her talons somehow finding purchase on his invisible skin. He turned his head, staring at her with wide, fascinated yellow eyes.
