by Bill Myers
A minute or two later we were all crowding into the room with the recliners. Stephie was there, doing everything she could to pull Chad out of his trance or whatever he was in. He was all hooked up and strapped into the recliner like before, but this time his body was jerking like he was having some sort of seizure.
“Chad!” She shook him. “Can you hear me?”
An alarm was sounding in the Observation Room.
“What’s wrong?” Andi said.
“He’s gone.”
“He’s what?
“He tried coming back, but something—I don’t know. Chad!”
“How often does this happen?” Andi asked.
“Chad!”
“Stephie?” Andi repeated.
“Never.”
“You sayin’ he can’t come back or he won’t?” I said.
“Chad, can you hear me?”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t. And the longer he stays—” She couldn’t finish and started shaking him again.
“There’s got to be somethin’ you can do?” Cowboy said.
“Not out here.”
“Out here?” Andi asked.
“It has to be from inside. Someone has to join him from the inside—help him out from in there.”
“So do it,” Cowboy said.
“Not me. It has to be someone with the ability. Someone with experience who can . . .”
She came to a stop and turned to me.
I looked away.
“Someone with the ability?” Andi repeated.
“Yes. Someone who can—”
His body gave a violet jerk. If it wasn’t for the restraints he’d have flown out of the chair.
“Chad!” Stephie cried.
His mouth opened like he was trying to scream, but only choking sounds came out.
Andi looked at me. “Brenda?”
I pretended not to hear. I knew exactly what she was thinking and no way was I going back in there, wherever “there” was. Especially for the likes of him.
Another alarm sounded from the Observation Room. Shriller than the other.
“He’s going into v-fib!” Stephie yelled. She began ripping off his sensors, fighting with the one wrapped around his chest. “Give me a hand!”
Cowboy obliged, holding down Chad’s bucking body, which freed Stephie to struggle with the sensors.
“A crash cart?” Andi shouted. “Do you have a defibrillator?”
Stephie shook her head as she tore open his shirt. “Too expensive. Said we didn’t need it.”
I stared down at him as he continued to fight and gasp. Then I heard a voice:
“Daddy . . .” It didn’t come from him, but from the little boy locked in the closet. I looked around. Nobody else heard it. “Daddy, I’ll be good.”
Stephie thumped on his bare chest. Then again. And again.
Nothing. Except . . .
It was no longer his body she pounded. It was the chest of the naked teen, arms stretched out to a flag pole. The boy’s cries were drowned out by older kids —laughing, mocking.
“Brenda?”
I blinked, turned to see Andi looking at me.
I shook my head. “No!”
Another alarm began.
“He’s flat-lining!” Stephie cried. She shoved the heel of her palm against his chest and began pumping with both hands, giving him CPR.
Only it wasn’t him. Or the teenage kid. It was the twelve-year-old version. I still heard the crowd jeering, the little boy crying, but now I saw and heard the twelve-year-old pleading with the girl:
“Melissa . . .”
“You’re such a loser. Everyone says so.”
“What are you doing?” I looked up to see Andi shouting to Cowboy.
He glanced up from his cell. “Calling 911.”
“They’ll never make it!” Stephie cried as she continued to pump. “We’re too far!” She threw another look to me.
“Daddy, please, Daddy, I’ll be good. The laughter was louder. So was the girl, “Freak. That’s what they say. Freak!”
“Brenda?” Andi asked again.
The images returned, repeated themselves. The naked teen. The twelve-year-old. The kid locked in the closet.
“Daddy, I’ll be good.”
“Freak!
The laughter grew to a roar, the voices screaming over it,
“Daddy!
Freak!
I’ll be good.
Everybody says—
Daddy, please—
Freak!
Daddy I’ll be—
Freak—
Dad—”
“All right!” I shouted. “All right!”
Cowboy looked up at me.
But Stephie got it. So did Andi.
“Get her into the other chair,” Stephie ordered. “Quickly.”
Andi said, “Will she be in any danger?”
“Not much. I don’t know. Hurry!”
Chapter 13
The voices still screamed in my head as I flew through the tunnel. Maybe they were in my head, maybe they weren’t, who knows? Add to that my snarling, toad-faced friends stuck to the side of the walls, and it was quite a party.
I was coming up to the end of the tunnel and saw what looked like a blizzard—blowing snow, wind growing stronger by the second.
“Looks like a snow storm,” I said, or thought, or both.
Stephie answered. “You’re approaching the end of the portal. Any sign of Chad?”
“I hear his voices, but don’t see anything.”
“Follow them. Follow the voices. Chances are they’ll lead you to him. But slow down. Start walking.”
“I’m flying. How am I supposed to—”
“In your imagination. Think yourself heavy, so heavy you’re falling to your feet.”
It made no sense. But nothing else did, either, so I gave it a try. I pretended I was big; Jabba-the-Hut big. And it worked. Immediately my feet touched down and I started walking. But I’d only taken a step or two before the whole tunnel disappeared. Now I was surrounded by giant, snow-covered cliffs on every side. And icy wind that cut through my shirt.
“You in the mountains, yet?”
“Yeah, how did you—”
“The Gate’s headquarters. This is where we’ve been going for days. Do you see the wall?”
“Nothing. Just rocks and snow and—wait a minute.” Directly in front of me I spotted something flat and coated in snow. It stretched out in every direction as far as I could see.
“What is it? What do you see?”
I reached out and gently touched it. It was freezing. “Some sort of surface,” I said. “Flat and smooth.”
“The wall. Good. He’s got to be around there somewhere.”
I pressed harder to get a better feel. That’s when my fingers disappeared.
“What the—” I pulled back my hand and my fingers returned.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
I reached out again, hesitated, then pressed the wall again. Same thing. I pushed harder, felt the wind blow against my hand, then my wrist. Just like moving through those kids in the school bus. I pulled my hand out. Checked it. Everything looked good.
“Brenda? What’s happening?”
I tried again, this time shoving my whole arm through and pulling it out. Still no problem.
“Brenda?”
I stuck both arms into it. Same thing, which I figured was good enough. I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw and inched forward. The puff of air hit my chest, then my face, and then—
“Bren—”
The snow was gone. The cold too. I was floating again. This time in front of a giant window. One that looked down on, and I know this sounds crazy, but I was looking down on the Earth. It was small, ’bout the size of a soccer ball, with a thin haze around it. And stars. Hundreds, thousands of them. Really breathtaking. And tranquil. Except for the laughter. And the voices:
I’ll be good. Everybody says—Daddy. Meli
ssa, please— Freak! Daddy I’ll be— Freak! Dad—
They were coming from behind me, louder than ever. I turned and caught my breath. There were thousands of floating snowflakes. Beautiful. Each one just a little bigger than a man. Not flat, but round like globes. And they were growing. Large crystals kept forming along their edges making them bigger and bigger. And in each crystal was a scene, like a 3-D movie. Hundreds of them playing at once. More being added by the minute.
“You guys won’t believe this,” I said.
But there was no answer.
“Hello? Stephie, can you hear me?”
Still nothing. Just the laughter and the voices.
Using my imagination, like I did in the tunnel, I willed myself toward the sound. It worked. I began drifting past one snowflake then another. Just like real snowflakes, each one was different. Each one growing and showing different scenes.
Except, up ahead . . .
One had three children floating around it—actually, on one side of it. Their hands were stretched out and no crystals were growing in that direction. The other sides grew just fine, but the ones closest to the kids’ hands had stopped. So, as the snowflake got bigger, it kept getting more and more lopsided. Instead of being beautiful, it was becoming more and more deformed.
The kids must have sensed my presence ’cause all three slowly turned. Goosebumps popped up on my arms. And it had nothing to do with the cold. It was their eyes. They were totally black. Just like the kids we’d seen in Florida.
I gave them a wide birth, and kept following the voices:
Melissa, please—Freak! Daddy I’ll be—
Finally, I arrived at their source. There was no mistaking it. Somehow, someway this snowflake had to do with Chad Thorton. Not only were the voices the loudest here, but I could actually see a scene of his life playing in the closest crystal. The scene of him hiding behind the door during our fight with the orbs. Beside it was another crystal. This one showing us having breakfast outside with him behind the lab.
“Stephie?” I shouted. “Guys?”
Still no answer.
Carefully, I reached out and touched the outer crystal. It was frosty and cold, just like the wall. So I pressed harder and my hand passed through, just like with the wall.
Except, I couldn’t pull it out. Instead, something powerful grabbed my wrist. It yanked me hard. So hard that before I knew it, I’d fallen inside the giant snowflake.
Chapter 14
I wasn’t lying when I said the snowflakes were ’bout the size of a man. But once I was inside Chad’s, I kept falling, going deeper and deeper. And the deeper I went, the more I could see the crystals around me, each one playing a different scene. Things like me driving him to the lab, being chased by the eyeless goons, slamming into him with my car. The deeper I fell, the farther back in his life the scenes went.
Pretty soon I was surrounded by his college years, awkward and nerdy. Even worse were his high school scenes, including the guys stripping him and tying him to the flagpole. Middle school wasn’t much better, full of pimples, porn, and, of course, Melissa shutting him down. Finally there were the fights, beatings really, when he was younger. Seemed every wannabe bully practiced on him . . . including his old man.
Then the scenes stopped. As best I could tell I’d reached the center. No more crystals. Just Chad, full grown, on his knees and crying like a baby. Instead of crystals, he was surrounded by shadows. Big ones towering over him. But, as far as I could tell, nothing was making them. They were only shadows, places where the light just sort of vanished.
I called to him. “Chad?”
He looked up, face wet with tears.
“Can you hear me?”
He cocked his head like he heard something. Peered like he was trying to see. But it was obvious he couldn’t see through the darkness.
“It’s me!” I said.
“Brenda?”
“We gotta get you out of here. Your body, back in the lab, it’s—”
“They’ve caught me. I’m trapped.”
“By what? Those things? They’re just shadows.” I started towards him.
“No! Don’t come any closer. It’s not safe.”
“I didn’t come all the way here to be run off by shadows. Now come on, we gotta get you—”
“Go back. Warn the others.”
He was starting to piss me off. “They’re just shadows. Let’s go!” I stepped into the first one. “Let’s—” And it hit me. Everything at once. Memories so clear it was like I was there . . .
I’m seven years old, shoplifting Hello Kitty pencils. Other stuff flickers past. Embarrassing stuff. Shameful. I’m nine years old, giving in to my step-dad, letting him do his thing. Again. And again. Now I’m beating up Jimmy McPherson, torturing the neighbor’s cat, breaking school windows. I feel the shadow seeping into me. Icy cold. More stuff. Things I’ve tried forgetting . . .
Making out with my seventh grade teacher. Doing it with Boyd on the living room floor, Johnson in his Mustang, smoking weed, giving up baby Monique, the meth, breaking into homes. My stomach is turning. I want to puke. I can’t catch my breath.
The first abortion. Cussing out Mom. My botched suicide. Her tears sponging up the blood from the bathroom tiles, the second abortion, the DUI’s, jail . . .
I begin to sob. Can’t help myself. My knees are getting weak. I lower to the ground. No light around me now. Only the shadows. Darkness. And more memories . . .
The dealing. Sex for money. More men than I can count, Caroline’s OD, working the Strip. Everything is hopeless. No way out.
When suddenly there is a roar, like a waterfall. The memories shimmer, then break apart. Someone is touching my shoulder. I look up. There’s a small patch of light. In it I see the old nun, the one who helped us back in Italy.
“Help . . .” my voice came out as a raspy whisper.
She understood. She took my arm and helped me to my feet. And suddenly . . . the shadows were gone. I could see them, feel them all around me, but they weren’t in me, they weren’t on me.
“Brenda . . . are you there?”
I turned to Chad. He was just feet away and still covered in dark. The old lady raised her arm. It wasn’t much. A small gesture. But suddenly there was a ripping sound, like a tearing sheet. A thin shaft of light shot through the darkness from above and landed on his head. The shadows pulled back, or maybe the beam got wider, or both. Whatever was happening, he was drenched in light.
“Chad!” This time he saw me. “Let’s get out of here!”
He scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward us. The nun turned. More light came down. In front of us. Blinding. And the nun was gone. Vanished. But the light remained, forming a path. I grabbed Chad’s hand and we ran as fast as we could.
His scenes began playing in the crystals around us. More than once I had to pull him away—after all they were about him. But we followed the path ’til there were no more, ’til we reached the edge of the snowflake and its frosty wall.
“Now what?” he said.
I had no idea. But since I could see the path kept on going beyond the snowflake, I figured why not. I closed my eyes, walked forward and stepped through the wall. Chad followed.
But instead of being with the other snowflakes or even looking down on Earth, we were outside the Gate’s wall, freezing our butts off.
“Miss Brenda?” Cowboy’s voice. I could barely hear him through the wind. “Miss Brenda, you there?”
“Yeah,” I shouted. “We’re here.”
“Thank the Lord,” he said. “You gotta hurry back. We just lost Chad. Don’t need to lose you, too.”
“No such luck,” I shouted. “He’s here with me now.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Guess you’ll have to tell him that.” I turned to Chad, but he wasn’t moving. His eyes stared lifelessly.
“Hey!” I waved my hand in front of him. Nothing. “Hey!”
“He ain’t there, Miss Brenda
.”
“No.” I reached over and shook him. “He’s right here.” But he didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. I shook him harder.
“He’s gone. Now you gotta get back—”
“No.” I grabbed him by the collar. “He’s with me.”
“Miss Bren—”
Bein’ stubborn has its plusses and minuses. I didn’t know which this would be. But I did know one thing.
I pulled him forward. “He’s with me and we’re comin’ back!”
Chapter 15
It wasn’t hard willing me and Chad back into the portal. But staying in the center of it was tougher than I thought. Still, we’d come this far, no way was I giving up now. “Keep doing that CPR,” I shouted. “Don’t let up.”
“It’s no use.” This time it was Andi. “He’s gone.”
“No! I’m bringing him home!”
Course it might of been easier if the guy wasn’t dead weight. It took both hands just to hang on to him, which kept throwing us off balance and causing us to bang along the tunnel’s wall like a pinball.
No problem—’cept for those snarling, frog-faced things. Seems every time we slammed into one, we picked it up as a hitchhiker. Creepy? Yeah. But not as creepy as them crawling over us. I tried not to panic, but Stephie and them must of saw it on my sensors.
“You okay?” Cowboy asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just these things.”
“What things?”
I watched one climbing up Chad’s chest toward his face.
“Go on!” I shouted. “Leave him alone!”
“What things?”
“These gremlin things. The ones I sketched, they—” I gasped as it crawled up his neck and onto his face.
“Demons, Miss Brenda? You talkin’ ’bout them demons you drew?”
“I don’t know what I’m talking about, but—”
I watched as it pried open Chad’s lips with its talons then suddenly dissolved. Not dissolved, really. More like turned misty. A mist that shot into his mouth and down his throat.
I might of screamed a little.
“Miss Brenda?”
Another was scampering right behind it. It leaped on his face where it also dissolved and shot down his throat. Then another behind it. Like they were playing follow the leader.
