by James Hunt
“If you don’t want me to go, then stop me,” Amy repeated.
The question was laced with an accusation that choked Liz’s ability to respond.
“You could have stopped it before, but you didn’t. All you needed to do was be more aware of your surroundings, but you were too busy being absorbed in your little world. Now that world is gone.”
“I-I tried to stop you.” Liz squeezed her eyes shut and wiped away the tears.
“No, you didn’t,” Amy said. “And now you’ll watch us die.”
Liz’s eyes bulged from her skull when her mother took her foot off the brake and the Jeep rolled forward. “No!” She lunged, but after her first step, the Jeep accelerated forward, speeding down the abandoned road, and all Liz could do was sprint after it.
Liz’s heart and lungs burned from the effort, her muscles fatigued, but she pushed past the exhaustion. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t stop running, not even when the Jeep was no longer visible.
She passed through the sleepy little town, heading for the mountain highway that she knew her mother would take.
Along the way she searched for any sign of help, but like the school, the town was just as vacant and abandoned. The sidewalks and storefronts were void of any pedestrians and shoppers. The streets were empty of cars and motorists. The entire township had vanished.
Eventually, Liz slowed to a half-walk, half-stumble forward down the road and then out of town. She pressed onward up the winding mountain road.
She saw the busted guard rail on the left side of the road up ahead, and the wake of debris the Jeep had left behind as her mother had veered off the road and into the woods, and Liz followed the path.
Gravel and rocks gave way from the steep decline as Liz descended into the trees. Using tree trunks to help keep her steady, she jumped from trunk to trunk, moving closer toward the wreckage of twisted metal that had come to a standstill on the mountainside.
“Mom! Maisie!” Liz shrieked. Smoke billowed from the engine, but there was no other movement.
The Jeep was flipped upside down, the chassis crumpled along with the doors and hood. The windows were smashed and fractured like broken ice. Liz shimmied down the side of the Jeep, using whatever she could to help keep herself upright.
Liz dropped to her knees at the driver-side door and peered through the broken glass window. “Mom!”
Amy hung upside down in her seat, the safety belt strung across her lap keeping her in place. Blood dripped from a gash on her forehead and began to puddle on the ceiling below.
Liz shifted her attention to the backseat, where she found Maisie suspended in a similar position. Liz yanked the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
The wreck had crumpled the door hinges, creating a locked steel cage that Liz couldn’t do anything to break into. She stepped back, giving herself enough distance to gain some momentum without having to run, and then kicked the busted window of the Jeep, causing a sharp pain to run up the side of her leg and into her hip.
Liz hunched over, both feet on the ground, and massaged her pained limb. Her muscles were exhausted. The run had sapped what energy remained to her, and as she stood there in the hot summer heat, her shirt began to soak with sweat.
Helpless, Liz lifted her head to the sky, which was blocked by some thick tree cover. Clouds passed over the twisted branches that limited her view, and she couldn’t understand how something so terrible could have happened on such a beautiful day.
Her shoulders shook, and she vigorously swiped away the tears, but she couldn’t plug the dam that had broken loose. She stood there, crying, when she heard the crackle of fire.
Flames rose from the Jeep’s undercarriage, and without concern for herself, Liz rushed toward the Jeep, banging harder on the doors, windows, anything that she could hit to try and wake her mother and sister inside. “Mom! Maisie!” Every kick and pound sent a rattling ache through her bones until the motion was repeated so many times that she’d gone numb.
The fire on the undercarriage of the vehicle grew higher, thickening the air with more smoke that choked her lungs, forcing her back from the Jeep.
The flames crawled down the sides, surrounding the entire vehicle, and faster than the blink of an eye, Liz watched the fire devour her mother and sister.
Her knees gave out and she hit the ground hard, sliding a foot in the loose dirt before she clawed her hands into the earth and stopped herself.
The heat from the blazing fire dried the tears on her face, and it grew so intense that she looked away. It was too much for her to bear. The sight, the smell...
“Lizzy.”
Liz turned her head back to the Jeep, squinting, the flames burning brighter than the daylight. In front of the burning wreckage of the Jeep was a silhouette, standing completely still.
“You did this, Lizzy.”
Liz worked her mouth, unable to find the words, and then finally stood, facing her mother, whose features she still couldn’t see. “No.”
“We burned because of you.”
Liz furiously shook her head, no longer even trying to fight back the tears. “It was your fault. Not mine. You picked me up from school. You put Maisie in the back of the car. You’re the one who went crazy!”
“Am I?” Amy asked with a hint of amusement. “You’re in a world where the only people that exist are the three of us.” She turned back to the Jeep, the flames still dancing wildly around the vehicle. “And your sister is burning alive.”
“Stop.” Liz barely got the word out. She couldn’t stop shaking. The sobs rolled out of her as if they would never stop. She didn’t understand why this was happening. She didn’t understand why she was forced to relive this day. “Please, stop.”
Amy laughed and stepped forward. “Here you will pay for your sins.” She inched closer, the distance sharpening the features on her face. “And every day, there will be a new torture for you to relive.” She stopped less than a foot from where Liz stood. “Another scenario where you fail to save your family.”
Liz turned her face away on the last hissing syllable. When she slowly craned her focus back to Amy, she had an up-close view of the results from the flames.
The flesh on her mother’s face was cracked, red, and blackened. The flesh flaked off in pieces, and her face had swollen from the fire. Her clothes had been burned off and while her mother was naked, the body wasn’t recognizable.
But what was worse than the look of her mother’s body was the smell of the charred flesh. It stung Liz’s nostrils. Twice she felt the hot geyser of vomit try and crawl up her throat, and twice she pushed it back down.
Amy cackled and inched closer. “You belong here with me.”
Liz remained frozen as Amy walked closer.
“You’re just as ugly on the inside as everyone else in this world.” Amy dropped to a knee right in front of Liz and extended her charred right hand, scraping her fingers together and flicking off flecks of charred skin that floated whimsically into the dirt. “And since we’re both the same on the inside, we should look the same on the outside.” Amy smiled wide, tightening the injured flesh and triggering a yellowish fluid to ooze through the cracks.
Quick as a snakebite, Amy snatched Liz’s wrist and dragged her through the dirt toward the Jeep that still burned bright with flames.
“No!” Liz tugged back at her mother’s hold, but her efforts didn’t slow Amy down. “Stop!”
Amy swung her free arm around and smacked Liz’s cheek. The hit stung and spread quickly through the rest of her head and body, lighting her brain up with pain.
“You will burn,” Amy said. “Just like your sister.”
The motion Amy used to fling Liz onto the Jeep was so effortless she seemed to possess the strength of some mythological Greek hero.
Liz landed on top of the burning Jeep with a thud, her head turned back toward Amy so she could see her mother through the rising flames of oranges and brief flashes of blue. She didn’t feel the flames
at first, her body still consumed with shock.
But it didn’t take long for the heat to override her numbness. The flames bit into her skin like tiny needle pricks over her entire body. Her heart beat so fast it might as well explode. She writhed and rocked over the Jeep as the flames burned hotter and hotter, the needle pricks quickly transforming into blade-like stabbings.
And the fire didn’t just burn her skin, it seared deep beneath the surface, reaching into her bones and organs, charring her innards as much as her exterior. And when she buckled from a spasm, she landed on her side, facing Amy.
The pain consumed her, stealing her voice and the screams that wouldn’t match the ferocity of the pain burning through her body. But when she saw her mother’s face, the smile that was spread over the blackened figure, it was the straw that broke her back.
The one person who was supposed to protect her, to guide her, to help her grow into womanhood had transformed into nothing but a disgusting monster. And the only thought that ran through her mind while Amy watched her burn was the betrayal between a mother and her daughter. A bond that was never supposed to be broken, shattered by the piercing cackle of laughter and the sound of burning flesh.
54
Amy was forced to wait for Kara and Ben to help their grandfather into the wheelchair, then followed them around to the back of the trailer and into a large hut constructed from old canvas sheets and wood.
Once inside, Kara and Ben left Amy and Running Water alone while the old man constructed a fire in the hut’s center.
“How old are they?” Running Water asked. “Your daughters?”
Amy hugged herself, wanting to avoid small talk. “Six and fifteen.”
“A big age difference,” Running Water said, his voice calm. “Me and my wife only had one. I wanted more, but my wife, she— there were complications at childbirth. I’ve never had a greater purpose than being a father.” He smiled. “I suppose grandfather is a close second.”
Amy kept quiet. If the old man was trying to garner sympathy, he wouldn’t receive any from her. While she had accepted the fact that these people were the only ones who could help her, she hadn’t forgotten it was him that put her family in this position in the first place.
“Did you come from a big family?” Running Water asked.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Amy blurted the question impatiently, but it didn’t faze the old man in the slightest.
Running Water tilted his head to the side. “In our language, there is no word for family. There is only the tribe. We are one people. For now, and always.” The smile faded. “But I’m afraid it won’t be that way for much longer.” He cleared his throat. “We have less than one thousand members of our tribe now, and half of them are older than I am.” His face grew long, the weight of his thoughts dragging him downward. “My people are lost. They wander in the desert with no home and no purpose. Our culture has been pilfered and undermined. No one follows the old ways anymore. No one cares to try.”
“But you did,” Amy said. “You tried. And you nearly destroyed my family in the process.”
Running Water paused, and then set down a piece of wood, dusting his palms off with the blanket on his lap. “I prayed and prayed for the spirits to allow me the burden, but they wouldn’t let me. I didn’t have—"
“Any other choice,” Amy said. “Yeah, I remember what you said.” She stepped toward him. “You have children. How could you possibly put another parent’s child in danger knowing what it would do?”
Running Water kept his head down. “I know how it feels.”
Amy laughed, the tone mocking and cynical. “No, you don’t.”
Running Water lifted his head, tears in his eyes. “The accident that took my legs also took my son. He and his wife were taking me to a tribal council meeting at my insistence. I wanted to make my voice heard about some of the issues plaguing the reservation.”
Amy stepped back. “I’m sorry.”
Running Water cleared his throat, collecting himself. “It was an accident. No one’s fault, but I still placed the blame on myself for a long time. But what I did to your family…” He wiped his eyes. “I know what it cost you.” He looked at Amy, eyes red and watering. “I’ll do everything I can to help you save them.”
Amy uncrossed her arms and nodded. “What do I have to do?”
Running Water gestured to the blanket at his side. “Lay down on your back.”
Amy lowered herself onto the cloth, which was decorative, carved with the same designs that were etched onto the canvas roof. It was cold to the touch, and as she flattened against it, she couldn’t stop shivering. “Now what?”
Running Water fiddled with a bowl and muddler to his left. “To save your daughters, you will have a trial of the mind and the heart. The cure for what ails your eldest daughter cannot be found in this world and will require the trial of the mind.” He finished muddling the concoction in the bowl and then set it down next to Amy’s head. He dug two fingers into the bowl and removed a red paste. “You must seek out the Lake of Spirits.”
“How?” Amy asked
Running Water ran his fingers that had the paste and applied it to Amy’s forehead, drawing a circle that ran hot against her skin, and then seared through her skull. “This entire structure was built by my ancestors as a way for us to connect with the spirit realm. I can open a door for you to enter, because you were chosen.”
Amy grimaced, the burning from the paint becoming worse. “What is it like?”
“The realm will try to trick you, reveal your deepest fears, Running Water said. “But you must conquer what you most fear.”
Amy frowned. “Conquer what I fear? How will I know?”
“That is for you to discover,” Running Water answered. “But you must find the Spirit Lake quickly. If you linger too long in the spirit realm, you can become trapped forever.”
Fatigue plagued Amy’s mind and body, and her eyelids fluttered open and closed. “What’s happening?”
Running Water shushed her, and Amy struggled for breath. A slow paralysis stole her movement, and the world around her blurred.
“Remember,” Running Water said. “To find the lake, you must conquer what you most fear.”
Running Water’s voice echoed, and then vanished, as did her sight, and she was cast into darkness.
Blinding light was accompanied by a blast of heat, and Amy sat up, gasping. She blinked, squinting as the whitewashed world took the shape of a desert landscape.
An ocean of sand spread in every direction to the horizon. Above was a cloudless blue sky, the sun nestled at its highest point.
Amy stood, the bits of sand clinging to her skin even after a thorough brushing. She spun in a half circle, looking for any sign of where she could go, but there was nothing but the yellowish-brown granules. With no guidance, Amy picked a direction and trudged forward.
It didn’t take long for the heat to take its toll, soaking her clothes with sweat. She expected to find a marker, a reference to her progress, but no matter how far she walked the land, the sky, the sun, it never changed.
Amy turned and then stopped. She stared at the path she’d walked, which had no footprints. She stared down at her feet then took a step back, and her mouth dropped as she watched the granules of sand fill the crater created by her foot. She took another step, and again the process repeated itself. She took another, then another, then another, her tracks erased the moment her foot took the next step.
“My god.”
Without being able to see where she’d been, there was no way for her to tell if she was doubling over her tracks.
Keeping to as straight a line as she could muster, Amy trudged on. She limped and pushed herself past the point of exhaustion, struggling in the heat, and it didn’t take long for thirst to override her quest for the lake.
Parched, Amy collapsed into the sand. She drew in a ragged breath, her tongue scraping the inside of her mouth like sandpaper. Her skin was t
ight and sensitive, as though it had been burned. She bunched the sand beneath her palm as she formed a fist, searching for the grit to keep pushing forward.
Amy shut her eyes, picturing Liz and Maisie, but their faces were obscured, blocked by her fatigue. She whimpered but was too dehydrated to produce tears. When she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot, and she gazed at the endless sea of sand.
Movement to the right caught Amy’s attention, but when she turned, the sand was still. She frowned, wondering if she was hallucinating, but more movement to her front caught her attention.
A single line in the sand wiggled back and forth, moving slowly but steadily toward Amy. She tilted her head to the side, frowning as the line moved closer and closer, as if the sand itself was alive.
Finally, the wiggling slowed as it approached Amy, the front of the line just a few inches away from her face. She leaned back, waiting for the indentation to disappear like her footprints, but it stayed. Amy lifted her hand, extending a finger, and moved it slowly but closely to the imprint in the sand.
She leaned closer, the sun still beating down her back, the indentation of the sand still motionless, and she waited.
The sand parted, and fangs sprang toward her face. Amy flung herself backward, her heart pounding, reaching for the snake that had latched itself to her neck. She screamed, writhing on her back, as the snake pumped venom into her bloodstream.
“AHH!” Amy ripped the snake from her neck and flung it aside, immediately placing her hand over the wound, finding the two puncture holes. She scrambled backward, then stood, searching for the snake, and found nothing but sand.
Hand over the bite marks, Amy felt the venom coursing through her veins, and her stomach soured. She stumbled left, then right, then dropped to her knees. Hot bile crawled up her throat and she vomited in the sand.
It burned her insides, and she collapsed forward on her hands. She shut her eyes, trying to calm the seesaw-like motion of her mind. When it finally settled, she opened her eyes and checked the wound on her neck. The puncture wounds were gone, and there was no blood.
