Shepherds: Awakening

by Damian Connolly

They set off, walking instead of jumping so as not to frighten the little girl. Mia lay her head in the hollow of Aisling’s shoulder, and Aisling found herself feeling very protective of her. Mia had given her her complete trust, she could feel it, from the way the child’s little hand gripped the collar of her jumper, to the way she looked at her with those big, imploring eyes.

  She was beginning to think it would have been better to have stopped before this. This was going to be a hard one.

  But then Mia would have been prey for the Shades.

  Hard or not, it was overwhelmingly the better outcome.

  They eventually came to a room, not a house, standing on its own. It was indistinct and blurred in and out, features blending with each other. She didn’t know if it was entirely safe to enter, but she pushed the door open anyway.

  Inside was a child’s room. Mia perked up as soon as they entered, a smile lighting her face up. She wriggled to be let down, and ran off to the bed as soon as her feet hit the floor. Wherever she went, the room became firmer, more real. Mia came back, a soft doll in each hand.

  “He’e,” she said, holding one out to Aisling.

  “For me? Thank you.” She had no more accepted the doll when Mia ran off to get another. Aisling sat on the floor as Mia brought her toys one by one, looking at each before handing it to Aisling with a “he’e.”

  Mia ran to the corner, where a bookcase solidified. Choosing a book with deliberate care, she ran back to Aisling, proffered it, and asked, “Re’d?”

  Aisling took the book, and Mia climbed into her lap, snuggling in close, so that Aisling was reading over her head, her arms around the child. She thought her heart was going to break. She avoided the gaze of her father. They had time.

  She read the book - Animals on the Farm - to the little girl, doing the required noises when Mia looked up at her, expectantly.

  “Mia!” shouted the child when Aisling had finished, grabbing the book, wanting her turn. She moved carefully through the pages, stopping at each animal to do the noise, and when the final page was turned, she yelled, “Done!” triumphantly, and looked up, eyes shining at Aisling.

  “That’s very good, Mia,” she said, kissing the girl on the forehead. Mia jumped up and ran for another book.

  They played like that for a while, and for a moment Aisling even forgot why she was there. The child’s happiness was infectious. But all good things, even sweet, innocent things, must come to an end.

  “Aisling,” her father said softly. She ignored him, though she could feel it too. “Aisling,” he repeated.

  “I know!” she snapped, causing Mia to freeze with a shocked look on her face. She stood to turn to the door, and Mia must have thought she was being abandoned again, for she cried out, and ran to grab her leg, to stop her.

  Turning her back on that little face, the face that had trusted her, that was now filled with terror, was harder than turning her back on the psychopath. She was crying now as well. It felt like a betrayal.

  Opening the door came easier this time, so hard was her desire to finish this. But at the sight of the bleak, grey sands beyond, she froze. “I can’t do this,” she said to her father. Thankfully, he was there beside her.

  “She doesn’t see what we see,” he said.

  Right then, Mia wasn’t seeing anything, as she had her head between Aisling’s knees, crying and trying to push her back into the room.

  Aisling bent, and lifted Mia up, hugging her tightly. “Shhh, it’s all right, Mia, it’s all right. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” She pointed through the door. “I…I need you to go through here now.”

  After much coaxing, they managed to get Mia to look up, but every time Aisling bent to put her down, she cried out, panicked, and clung on.

  “What now?” Aisling asked her father. She knew what she had to do, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “Let me,” he said, and lifted the child out of her arms.

  She felt very cold without her.

  Her father hushed the child, singing softly to her in a low voice, rocking from side to side. When Mia was quietened, he sat her up in his arms and gave her a big smile. Mia smiled back, her eyes still red.

  “Go and be free, little one,” her father said, kissing her on the cheek. And before she could react, he bent and placed her through the door.

  Mia looked up with shock, then started bawling again, harder than ever, though it sounded faint, suppressed. She tried to come back through, but was blocked at the threshold by a barrier none of them could see. She became hysterical, looking to Aisling for help, screaming harder and harder. To Aisling, each one was a knife in her heart.

  Her father closed the door. When it snipped shut, the sounds of Mia were cut off completely, and Aisling fell to her knees with her head in her hands.

  She felt arms around her. “Kids are always the hardest.”

  They stayed like that, for how long, she couldn’t tell. But when she had emptied herself out and looked up, the room was no longer there. That somehow made it worse.

  “I think that’s enough for one night,” her father said to her, looking her in the eyes.

  She looked away. She had failed.

  15

  She floated in the darkness between Limbo and the dream world, where her body didn’t exist, and her mind was just a self-aware bundle of thoughts. Her father had all but ordered her to sleep, and she’d turned towards the door, but hadn’t stepped through. Instead, she found herself here.

  There was nothing here, but it was peaceful. Here, she didn’t feel pain. She didn’t have to see Mia’s eyes as she was abandoned once more. She was angry with herself. For what she’d done and what she hadn’t been able to do. For her father to have to take over like that meant that she wasn’t ready. Perhaps she’d never be ready. What did he see when he looked at her? Was he disappointed?

  She had no ears here, but she could still hear Mia’s screams. But then, what she was thinking was irrational. If she hadn’t delivered the child, the Shades would be feasting on her already.

  Sometimes, to help people, you had to hurt them.

  It didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  I can do better than this. I am better than this, dammit!

  She turned back.

  It felt weird jumping through Limbo without her father. Like she was sneaking around the house while everyone was in bed. Was he able to tell that she was here? He’d said before that it was possible to find somebody, but did you have to know they were there? There was no point worrying about it anyway; if he found her, he found her. She had to focus.

  There.

  She arrived at a modern, large-windowed, coastal apartment, looking slightly out of place sitting in the middle of a field. She rang the doorbell and it was immediately opened by a frantic woman. It seemed she was expecting someone else.

  “Wha- Oh. I’m sorry, it’s just… you are?”

  “I’m the person you’ve been looking for.”

  “Oh, right. Come in, come in.” She practically pulled Aisling through the door.

  The woman whirled her around. “Can you tell me what happened? One minute, I’m driving down the road, the next I’m back at home.”

  Car accident, Aisling thought, sadly. She could feel the woman’s thread pulsing violently. They wouldn’t be together very long.

  The woman paced around the room, though stiffly, as if her joints weren’t altogether attached properly. Beneath her blouse, lumps jutted out. She seemed unaware of them. “I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know where the car is, I don’t know where my kids are.” Oh no. “Where are my kids?!” She was practically tearing her hair out.

  “Your kids are fine,” Aisling said. It could even be true. Since they weren’t here, chances were good. Although, technically, she didn’t know if family members all came to the same house. “You need to relax. I’m here to help.”

  “How can I relax? They could be anywhere! With anyone! They could -” She stopped, her face going m
omentarily blank. Aisling had needed her to calm down, so she’d made it so, though perhaps a little brutally.

  “Your kids are fine,” she repeated. “A good friend of yours is with them right now.”

  “That’s right,” the woman replied, dumbly. “A good friend.”

  “Tell me your name.”

  “Sharon. Sharon Kennedy.”

  “Sharon; that’s a beautiful name.”

  The woman smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  “We have a few minutes, Sharon. Why don’t you tell me about your kids?” She directed her to the couch in the middle of the room, which the older woman looked at as if she’d never seen it before. Aisling never questioned how it felt to be taking charge in a situation where there was someone twice her age present; it simply felt natural.

  They sat and talked. Despite Sharon’s…calming, was a good a word as any…she was enthusiastic about her children. Aisling was beginning to see what her father found fascinating about these times, just before the opening. They just got a peek of the person’s life, right at the end, but they were told things that nobody else would be told. They saw what really mattered for each person, what made them tick. She felt herself being drawn in by the story, so much so, that when she realised that it was time, she was mildly annoyed.

  “Excuse me,” she said, as she stood and walked to the door. All of a sudden, she felt a bit panicked. This was the first time she’d do this solo. But she was pleased with herself that the phrasing she’d chosen was good. Not that she’d try this, but the first time she’d do this.

  She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Reached between the worlds.

  It took some effort, but the door opened smoothly. When she opened her eyes, she was looking into the blank abyss. Sharon was beside her.

  “What do you see?”

  “Stars,” she whispered. “So many, so beautiful, oh my…” Her face was in awe.

  “Do you want to go through?” Aisling asked quietly; she didn’t want to break the woman’s moment.

  “If I step through, will I just float?”

  She had no idea. “Yes.”

  Tentatively, the woman walked through the door, passing the threshold with care. Once through, she looked around her, arms out, laughing, though the sound was muffled.

  Aisling breathed with relief. It was done. She had done it.

  Again.

  There was a young boy, Richy. A middle-age French lady, Miriam. An old man, Simon. A young man, Antonio, either Spanish or Portuguese. More - from all around the world seemingly. Even when she couldn’t understand them, she managed to fumble through. Languages could be learned, and right now she was feeling invincible.

  Each success spurred her on to another, it was like a drug. As soon as she was finished with one, she was off hunting again.

  She was searching again, but the threads kept fumbling through her grip. The last delivery had been hard; she’d almost not been able to get the door open. She told herself one more and she’d call it a night.

  Jus’ need to fin’ one more…one mo’e…

  What was she looking for again? People, that’s right. Someone in need. In needed her. No, who needed her. Why was it so hard to think?

  She looked around her, and her head followed her instructions a few seconds after she’d given them. Everything looked fuzzy, and she rubbed her eyes to try and clear them. No improvement. She stumbled over something, cursed at the ground for being too close, at her feet for not looking where they were going.

  Wha’ am I doing again?

  She couldn’t remember. She realised that she wasn’t moving. How long had she even been standing here?

  Need to move. Som’ne’s lookin’ for me.

  She was staring at the sky. Wha’ the…? She was on the ground. She didn’t remember falling. It seemed like a comfortable place to stay, but something was telling her to get up. She struggled, but nothing was happening. It was like her body wasn’t listening to her brain anymore. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d be more alarmed.

  She wasn’t meant to be feeling tired here.

  Daddy lied t’me.

  She felt hands under her shoulders pulling her head up. A face came into her vision. She frowned at it, puzzled.

  “Aisling! Can you hear me?”

  Did thinking about him make him appear? She tried to answer, but her mouth wasn’t working.

  “Aisling! Aisling, dammit! I need you to focus.” Her father slapped her on the face. She didn’t feel it, but felt she should be indignant about it. “I told you about this. I need you to turn around. I need you to go to sleep. Can you do that? Aisling! Can you do that for me?”

  Why would she need to go to sleep? She was already sleeping, wasn’t she?

  “Ah, shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit. I can’t do it. I’m nowhere near you.” She’d never heard him use that sort of language before; he was death on it when she was growing up. She tried to tell him off, but nothing came out. That was unfortunate.

  Her father squeezed his eyes shut. He was whispering a name over and over, “Miranda, Miranda, come on, Miranda…”

  Who’s Miranda? Oh, right, Mammy.

  She didn’t see how she was going to answer him anyway, there was no phone here. He shook her again. “Aisling, can you turn around? Listen to me. Turn around, go through the door.”

  Something was pulling at her, though she was lying on the ground with her head in her father’s lap. That shot some panic through her, enough that she jerked and mumbled.

  “No! Don’t fight it. Go! Go now!”

  Everything was going black. He was fading.

  She tried to call to him. Daddy! Help me! I’m falling!

  But he didn’t.

  She was shaking. Or being shaken.

  “…ling! Aisling!”

  She struggled up through unconsciousness, whipping her muscles to start moving, clawing at the fogginess that was trying to cloud her mind. She felt like she was drowning.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Aisling! Oh, thank God! I didn’t know what was wrong with you! I came back because I’d thought I’d forgot my purse, that stupid purse, and you were still in bed but you didn’t wake up and I got scared, I was so scared.” Her mother was rambling. It was frightening to see. She was gripping her about the shoulders hard enough to be painful. “Oh, Aisling, we need to get you some help. Tell me, did you take anything? Did you do this to yourself? I won’t be mad. All this sleeping, it isn’t normal! Julie says that it’s a sign of depression. Do you feel like that?”

  Wait, that was all wrong. She had it all wrong. “…Daddy…” was the only word she could whisper though. She had never felt so numbingly tired. How close had she been? How close had her body been to just giving up? A tear ran down her cheek.

  “Oh, Aisling,” her mother said, crushing her limp body to her chest.

  Blackness took her.

  16

  She awoke with grainy eyes in a hospital bed. There was an admittance date written on the tag on her wrist, but since she had no idea what date today was, it didn’t help much. Her hand, her wrist, her arm itself looked thin and wasted. Used up. Was that a result of what she did in Limbo or from being here?

  She ached all over. Never after her most strenuous workout had she been in as much pain as this. Her mind still felt foggy and she couldn’t think straight. She turned her head slightly, and heard movement beside her.

  “You’re awake, thank God. You had me so worried there.”

  She tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry that her lips were stuck together.

  “Here,” her mother said, lifting a glass to her mouth. The water that dribbled through was cool and delicious.

  “What happened?” Aisling asked. Her voice was hoarse, as if she’d spent the night before screaming her head off.

  “What happened, young lady, is that through sheer chance I came back to the house yesterday morning, and found you still in bed. What happened, is that I
spent I don’t know how long trying to wake you up. What happened, is that once I’d managed to do that, you blacked out straight away. What happened, is that I ended up calling for an ambulance because I thought my daughter, normally so sensible and smart, was dying from a drug overdose or something. That is what happened.”

  She could see the effort her mother was putting into trying to rein in her temper. She decided to say nothing.

  “Lucky for you, the good doctor told me that there was nothing in your system, and that it was simply exhaustion, though to the point where it had become dangerous. Aisling,” she said, and now the despair was evident on her face, “will you tell me what’s going on? Do you feel all right?”

  How to explain it? She ran through a few opening phrases in her mind, but everything quickly became ridiculous. There was no way to prove what she was doing; she’d only come across as delusional. She wanted to open up to her mother - looking at her, it was clear her mother wanted her to spill whatever was on her mind - but she didn’t. And she couldn’t say why.

  “Dammit, Aisling, I can’t help you if you won’t let me!”

  Her mother was interrupted from going further when a young doctor entered the room, chart in hand.

  “I see you’re awake, Miss Shepherd. I’m Dr. Howard. How are you feeling?”

  “Tired,” she croaked. That was an understatement.

  “I’d well imagine,” he said, smiling. “We’re going to start you on some meds to help you sleep. They’re very strong, so you won’t be able to do much else, but that’s a good thing. The only things I want to you do now are rest and eat. You need to build up your strength again. No getting out of bed unless it’s to use the toilet. Understood?”

  She nodded, feeling like shards of glass were embedded in her spine.

  “And Mrs. Shepherd,” he said, addressing her mother, “I understand you’re worried, but I must ask you to refrain from stressing your daughter. When she was admitted, her heart was under enormous strain, and I’d like to keep her as calm as possible.”

  She could see her mother wanted to retort as she always did when she thought someone was questioning her credentials, but she bit her tongue and simply nodded.