by Lee Davidson
You, idiot, you’re too late! I scold myself and react the only way I can, by digging my left foot behind me to brace for the impact.
Jackson groans when he hits me, but despite my flaming muscles I barely budge. When the haze that never carried a thought evaporates, the roaring sound of someone’s laughter increases.
I ignore the others approaching us. “Sorry, man.” I pull Jackson up and mentally ream myself for missing the block.
Jackson brushes himself off. “Totally cool, no sweat. You all right? I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I totally thought you had it. If I had known, I would have gone easier on you. I mean—”
“I’m OK,” I interrupt, but because Billy won’t stop laughing at him, I mock a pain in my stomach. “That was a heck of a hit.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you. That was a head-on blow and—”
“I think I’ll be all right,” I say in my nicest voice.
“You’ve got some mad skills,” Trina says.
“Seriously, that was really something. You’re really something.” Evelynn adds.
I shift awkwardly while everyone gazes with approval; everyone but one, anyway. Billy, who has stopped laughing, is glaring like he wants to rip me in two. Or ten. When he retracts his venomous stare, he turns to Lawson. “You may as well ask him out, you pansy.”
“Watch it, Billy,” Lawson warns in a deep voice.
Jonathan clears his throat and steps between them. “We have many years ahead. I would advise that we all try to get along.” His smile doesn’t do much to lighten the mood. “That will wrap up our session today. Grant, the others will be returning to their assignments shortly. I suspect you have some work to complete in getting acquainted with your Tragedy.”
In response, I lock eyes with Billy.
“See you all in two days. Safe journeys everyone,” Jonathan says as his dismissal.
Billy breaks the staring contest first, but snickers before whispering something to Lawson.
On the way back inside, Evelynn glues herself to me. Her smooth arm keeps meeting mine no matter how much I veer away. “You really were something out there. That’s some great stamina, especially as a newbie.” Evelynn squeezes her hand around my biceps muscle. “I’m interested to see what other tricks you have up your sleeve.”
I pull my arm away and step to the left, giving Trina what I hope is a ‘help me’ look.
Trina smiles like she gets it and moves to put herself between Evelynn and me. Evelynn is reluctant to take the hint, but eventually falls back, becoming the receiver of Jackson’s rambling.
“She’s a persistent thing. She’ll be all over you until she’s absolutely sure you’re not interested,” Trina says.
I scowl. “I guess I’d better let her know sooner than later.”
Trina undoes her hair and wild curls sprout in every direction. Something tugs inside me. Why is she so familiar? Maybe I’ve seen her around Benson and just don’t remember. That doesn’t feel right, though. Hair like that would be difficult to forget.
When we get through the doors, Billy’s shoulder rams into mine.
“Watch yourself,” he hisses in my ear when I straighten. “Don’t count on doing so well in training next time.” His lips pull over his pointy teeth like a wolf before he turns and stalks away.
3. Whatever it was, it must have been really bad
Keeping my distance from Billy—because he could probably take me and he obviously hates me—I cross Benson when I spot my crew. Before I get to the table, Clara, Liam, and Rigby puff into nothingness while Owen and Anna say goodbye to one another with their tongues. After allowing them sufficient slurping time, I glance down from Benson’s floating lanterns to see the now-abandoned table. Sigh.
My backpack feels heavier on my way out of the dining hall. It seems like ages since I’ve talked to everyone and now I’m stuck waiting another day.
A strange, almost anxious pull in my gut manifests as I find myself walking through the middle doorway of Alogan. My footsteps are the only sound in the church-like room and I sit in one of the back pews. The marble altar where Jonathan gave his orientation speech seems bigger now that the place is empty. Scarlet tanagers, the State Birds of Progression, fly like flames across the sky that, by all accounts, should be a ceiling.
Being in this room and recalling Jonathan’s welcome speech, my thoughts turn to Willow. I twist in the pew, expecting to see her brown dreadlocked hair that’s almost as big as her personality, her tattoos nearly as colorful. But the doorways are as silent as the heavily-columned room. Odd, since the birds are usually trilling unless Jonathan has something to say.
An orange, black-winged bird lands on the pew just a foot from my shoulder. I keep still, amazed that it would land so close to me. Its glass eyes shine, reflecting my own image. The bird chirps once and then flies into the sky. My scars prickle and a cold tingle percolates through my T-shirt and jeans, accentuating the anxious feeling in my stomach.
Exasperated, I stand and shrug on my backpack, wishing I knew where the twin, tear-shaped marks on my chest and knee came from.
I stalk down the B hallway and ride the elevator up to my room. After two minutes of banging around in the kitchen for coffee, I’m on my favorite green sofa staring at the dark purple book on the trunk.
The addition of the Elite label unbalances the way that my name appears, embossed on the cover. I feel unbalanced myself, remnants of the strange feeling I had while sitting in Alogan.
“May as well get on with it,” I say to the empty room.
I grab the heavy book and open to the hand-shaped vacuum portal. Funny how non-threatening the page looks. I turn my head like I’m about to get a vaccination injection and reluctantly press my palm into the hand outline. Instead of searching for light that doesn’t exist, I focus on the insides of my eyelids and remind myself that my lungs won’t actually implode.
When I open my eyes, dirt is swirling around my legs from my landing, making the musty smell of the circular room even stronger.
“Welcome back, Grant,” GPS Jeanette says before the wall of doors spins into a blur. The sparse blades of grass around the stone edges dance from the tornado.
Ding.
“Please proceed to 1999,” GPS Jeanette chimes.
The handle shocks me with an electric spark when I enter through the only door the cyclone left behind. The temperature doesn’t change, but the air feels thick in my lungs when I step through.
On the blacktop driveway, Meggie has her hand fisted tightly around a large envelope. “You read it,” she orders to Brody.
“Come on Meg, you were top of your class at Maryland.” He pries Meggie’s fingers free and rips the envelope open, scanning over the letter.
Meggie’s face is colorless. “Well?”
Brody’s smile prompts Meggie to shriek in such a high pitch I doubt I’ll ever hear again. “Hopkins!” she yells and then squeals again. “I. Got. Into. Hopkins!”
Brody hugs her and then spins her around until she finally stops squealing. “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
I’m sucked away and the metal door slams. The spin-cycle completes and GPS Jeanette orders me into 2000.
Blood is pooling at the foot of a hospital bed and I cringe away from the metallic smell. Meggie, donning pink scrubs, pushes sweat-matted hair from a woman’s forehead. The woman in the bed alternates between holding her breath and screaming. The doctor and the two other nurses are as despondent as Meggie.
“Give me a big push as soon as you can,” the doctor instructs.
The woman’s knuckles turn white as she crushes Meggie’s hand. Something covered in slime and blood sloshes into the doctor’s hands. It can’t be, it’s too small to be…
I focus on the dated linoleum while the new mother’s cries pierce the room. When a man—out of place in his suit and tie amidst the massacre—rushes in and joins the nightmare, the room is soon flooded with hys
terics from the would-be parents.
I follow after Meggie when she hurries out of the room. Her back slaps against the cinder block wall before she hunches over and sucks in air. Someone closes the door to block out the unthinkable devastation, but the barrier is not enough to muffle the couple’s wailing entirely.
I’m too numb to notice the pull that sucks me out of the hospital or the spinning room that follows, but the current of the next door pulls me from my stupor. I walk into 2001, into a world of white.
I’ve got to hand it to Brody; Meggie in that lace wedding dress really is something. Meggie’s brothers, all grown up now, along with three other groomsmen, face me as they watch Meggie walk down the aisle. One twin has blond hair that hangs below his shoulders; the other has hair so closely cropped that it makes Rigby’s look long. Their faces, though, are as identical as their white suits.
The bastard who used Meggie’s mother to catch his swinging fists is in the back corner of the ivory church where no one is likely to notice him but me. He’s no raging bull now. Heck, he’d probably have trouble beating an egg for an omelet. Still, my muscles tighten and I have to remind myself this is the past, not the present. He’s gone through the trouble of tucking in his shirt and his oily hair shows predominant comb lines. I’d bet money no one knows he’s here. I’d also bet his invitation didn’t get lost in the mail.
I watch the ceremony and can’t help but smile along with Meggie and Brody. I laugh with them when Meggie trips on her dress on the way back from lighting the candle on the altar. Meggie is the definition of a glowing bride. Just as the priest announces the newly married couple, I’m sucked out of the church.
The roulette wheel lands on 2004 and places me in another hospital room. I swallow, not wanting to witness another death. It might not make sense for a dead person to have trouble witnessing death, but my reaction is far from apathetic.
I’m not sure whether to be happy or scared to see Meggie in the spotlight this time. While she’s screaming obscenities, I gauge the overall atmosphere to be upbeat and I relax a little. A nurse ignores Meggie’s foul mouth, and studies the paper graph spitting from the machine next to the bed.
Meggie pulls her legs to her chest. “Janine! I want more drugs! Now!”
The nurse laughs and I don’t even want to know what she finds under Meggie’s hospital gown.
“He’s almost here. I’ll go grab Doc Walt. Take a look Brody, it’s really something. The glory of a new life and all that…” she trails off on her way out the door.
Brody extends his arm so Meggie can maintain her death-grip on his hand while he leans toward the end of the bed.
Meggie groans her disapproval just as an eighty-something year old doctor shuffles calmly into the room, followed by a slew of chatty nurses.
“This is it, Meggie…”
“I can’t believe…”
“…so glad I was on shift today.”
“Brody, are you all right?”
Meggie disappears amid a sea of pastel-colored scrubs, but her volume remains at maximum, screaming obscenity after obscenity. After a few grunts, a baby cries, causing an eruption of oohs and ahhs.
“I love you guys,” Meggie says in her sweetest voice after a few minutes. Apparently babies have a magic ability to restore sanity.
I’m pulled back into the stone well and directed into 2007.
I huff a visible sigh into a room that may as well be the same as the last. The good news is that Meggie appears to be playing it cooler this time and Brody actually has some color in his face.
“My mom is bringing Josh in later,” Meggie tells the nurse who’s typing on the computer beside the bed. “He’s so big you’ll hardly recognize him and he’s so excited about meeting—”
Meggie breaks off and—Holy Mother!—the obscenities that follow from Meggie’s mouth are impressive, albeit unflattering.
The doctor shuffles into the room, even older and slower than last time. He asks if everyone is having a lovely day.
Meggie answers with a slew of curses.
“Are you ready?” Grandpa Doc asks, sitting at the foot of the bed that’s been transformed into some torturous, stirrup contraption.
With fewer spectators than before, I have more of a view than I ever wanted. Brody and two nurses encourage Meggie while her face changes from red to purple and then back to red.
Meggie relaxes, sucks in a breath like she’s about to go under water, and then her face contorts again. A nurse counts down from ten and at number four the baby slips out, covered in red slime. Sweet Meggie returns for about thirty seconds, then reverts back to sailor mode. Someone needs to give this girl a bar of soap.
“Almost finished. Give me another one,” Doc says.
Another what? She’s already—
Oh Lord, twins run in the family!
I’m waiting to be sucked out of the room while the babies are taken care of and Meggie is put back together, but nothing happens. Meggie’s mom comes in with big brother, Josh, and they are introduced to Sophie and Harper. Josh is as white headed as Meggie with the same close-set eyes, but his face is square like Brody’s. Little Josh’s mood sours when the attention shifts off of him and onto his new sisters. While I’m chuckling at his impressive temper tantrum, the powers that be call for a switch-up by sucking me away.
GPS Jeanette’s chiming voice directs me into 2009, which is finally somewhere other than a hospital room.
This may be worse.
After letting one vaporous breath out, my lungs freeze, unwilling to let the assaulting stench of sweat, feet, and urine enter my air passage.
Josh, a toddler-sized, blond-haired girl, a freckled boy, and I are squeezed into a human-sized hamster cage. I crawl backwards into the blue tube, hitting the smudged, convex window and wishing I was anywhere else.
“What did you call her?” Josh’s threatening tone is humorous because he’s no thicker than a straw.
The freckled kid is confused. “What?”
“You called my sister an idiot,” Josh says.
“So?”
Josh socks him in the arm. “Don’t call her that!”
“But…you call her that all the time,” the freckled kid whines.
“I’m her brother!”
Baffled, the freckled boy turns to maze through another stinky tunnel, mumbling, “Whatever.”
Meggie’s head appears from the green tube. She’s up here by choice? She crawls to Josh and pulls him into a hug. “I’m proud of you, baby.”
“I found a penny up here!” Josh says like he didn’t hear Meggie. “Heads up, too!”
“You find those everywhere. My little penny boy.”
When I’m pulled back into the stone well, I take advantage of the fact that I can breathe again and revel in the earthy air. I’ve been on farms that have smelled better than that place.
The stone spins in a blur around me. When the circuit is complete, GPS Jeanette says, “Please proceed to 2012. This will be your final door.”
Yes!
I step from the circular room onto a brick patio. My breath hangs as heavy in the air as the smoke from the grill. The screen door bounces closed behind Meggie and she sets a tray of raw meat on the table beside the grill. Brody wraps an arm around her and takes a swig from his beer bottle.
With her head resting on his chest, Meggie watches their three kids in the backyard. Josh is making a dump truck fly, barely missing the girl who is having a full-blown conversation with her Barbie dolls. Their other daughter is digging through the rocks, concentrating like she’s in search of something.
Meggie steals Brody’s bottle and takes a drink. “What did we do to deserve them?”
Brody takes the bottle back. “Whatever it was, it must have been really bad.”
Meggie jabs her elbow into his ribs and he hunches in fake pain.
“We’re so lucky,” Meggie whispers a minute later.
Brody kiss
es the top of her head. “I think that every day of my life, baby.”
My feet kick out from under me and I’m more than thrilled about it being my last ride for a while.
“Thank you for your time and best of luck in your assignment,” GPS Jeanette says.
Strike that, there’s one ride left: a black, constricting one. My muscles tighten and I squeeze my eyes closed, silently saying adios to the stone dungeon.
Flying upwards through the nothingness, I keep my eyes locked shut. The suffocating ride ends with the book hawking me out like a loogie and flopping closed.
I stuff the book into my bag before sinking into the sofa. After a few minutes, it’s obvious that my attempt to relax is failing, so I decide to head down the hall to the coding room instead.
Sitting on the black mat that contrasts against the light hardwood floor, I study my reflection in the mirrored wall and try to tame my messy hair. Giving up, I cross my legs, rest my hands on my knees, and close my eyes.
The faint hint of lemon in the air relaxes me. After a few breaths, my shoulders and back loosen and I’m surrounded by a forest. From my tree stand, I have a full view of the clearing below. To my right, the antlers come into view before the giant buck himself does. There’s no possible way I could be any more relaxed than I am while I watch this animal.
The surrounding trees strangely fade away, leaving me standing in a bedroom. I blink my eyes, sure that my vision is tricking me. Is this my old bedroom? Feeling like I should recognize it more, the unsettling déjà vu sensation makes my muscles tense. Crossing to the open closet, I inventory the clothes. The jeans and shabby cotton shirts are similar to items I would wear. On the carpet below them are a pair of worn boots identical to my own; same brand, same worn leather, same laces. Confused, I go to the dresser to scan the picture frames. I suck in a sharp breath when I see a photograph of myself. Ice-cold air assaults my lungs and goose bumps rise on my arms.
“Grant,” a raspy voice whispers.
I groan from a freezing, muscle-gripping pain like I’ve never felt before. When my eyes pop open, I’m back in the coding room. My teeth won’t stop chattering, yet sweat is running down my face and dripping from my hair, leaving dark spots on the mat. My mystery scars feel frozen, so I rub my chest and knee hard to warm them. When my head lifts, I stop moving altogether.
