Winterland

by Mike Duran

  Joseph and Eunice navigated knuckles of roots and crumbling concrete until the tree’s branches became a tangle atop them, a skeletal frame weighted with the wretched pods. She began to worry that one of the poisonous fruits would drop on them and, as they picked their way across the terrain, she kept glancing anxiously overhead.

  “C’mon!” Joseph stood on the opposite side of a gnarled root. “Don’t slow down.” Then he added, “And don’t think about it!”

  She glowered at him.

  Suddenly a commotion sounded above and brittle limbs exploded, showering the area. Eunice threw her arms over her head to protect herself, but not before glimpsing strange forms—humanoid, winged creatures with tiny round heads and long legs, skating into the eventide. Twigs clattered to the ground around her. Yet at the moment, Eunice was not worried about getting clubbed by an errant limb. There were others here—things not human.

  Up to that point, her journey had been more like a fantastical experiment or a test of wills. Heck, if she was free to go back whenever she pleased, what real risk was involved? Yet under the shadow of this death tree, it seemed like the stakes were changing. This adventure was no longer about catharsis or subconscious play-acting. It was about survival.

  “Hey!” she shouted to Joseph. “You said I can go back. Right?”

  He poked his head from behind a moldering fallen branch. “We just started.”

  “Yeah, but—” She stared up through the branches and the haze, trying to locate the winged creatures. “You didn’t say there were flying monkeys here.”

  “Monkeys?” He followed her gaze upwards. “Those aren’t monkeys. They’re sentries.”

  She squinted into the sky and saw the creatures in a tight-knit formation, making a beeline toward the raging sunset. Eunice scrabbled over a block of asphalt and joined Joseph.

  “What does my mother need sentries for?”

  “They’re not your mother’s.”

  Eunice peered at Joseph.

  He replied, “Someone else is worried about you, Eunice. They don’t want you here.”

  For a moment, she stood stunned. Someone else is worried about you. What was that supposed to mean? Who could be that worried about her? And what were they doing in her mother's world? The raging sun. The tree of death. The winged sentries. And now, an angry watcher bent on sending her packing. She wasn’t a genius, but it didn’t take one to know that this trip would only get worse.

  As Eunice struggled to suppress a rising dread, something moved ahead of them—something squat and nervous and completely inhuman. Her breath caught in her throat. For underneath the rancid tree scurried a creature that looked, for the life of her, like the largest grub the world had ever seen.

  FIVE

  Joseph seemed unafraid of the creature under the black tree. He leapt over a growth of roots and then turned back to Eunice and motioned her forward. Yet she dared not move.

  “Don’t be scared,” he urged. “He won’t bite.”

  Eunice gulped. “You sure about that?”

  “Positive. He might slobber on you and he smells pretty bad. But he won’t bite.”

  She scowled at Joseph.

  Upon closer inspection, the creature was neither human nor insect, but a deranged hybrid of species. An immense droopy head with thick jowls lolled atop a soft arachnid-like torso. It wore filthy jean overalls and waddled upright on two stumpy legs. Four gangly arms, each with a claw-like hand, pattered nervously about the creature’s body—scratching, touching, and kneading its gelatinous torso. The grub man shambled about in the most awkward fashion, plopping onto the ground in a snuffling heap, before scurrying to its feet again to begin its worried march.

  Suddenly, the creature looked at them. Sallow eyes lay sunken under dense overgrown brows—a face that could have been that of an old man. It glanced their way and began sloughing and scuttling more the earnest, flashing a worrisome gaze.

  Eunice clambered over several roots and joined Joseph, and together they stood watching the grub man. Finally, she leaned over and whispered, “What's he doing?”

  “What he was born to do.”

  The creature kept groveling and glancing their way. Suddenly, he plopped onto the ground, crossed his four arms, and yowled, “I ain’t goin'! D'ya hear? I ain’t goin'!”

  Eunice whispered to Joseph. “Where isn’t he going?”

  “With us.”

  “With us?!” she blurted. “Why would he—? I don't want that thing comin’ with us.”

  “You don't have a choice. Your mother’s tying up loose ends. And he's one of them. He has to come. And you’re his escort. In fact, here he comes now.”

  Instantly, the creature was upon them.

  He stomped his feet and his face grew long and pouty. “Why? Why do they always do it? Mmph! These last minute reprieves are wrong, Joe—dead wrong.”

  “It's her call, Mordant,” Joseph said flatly.

  “I knew it,” the creature bawled. Then he crossed his arms and tamped the ground like a sulking child. “Oh-h, I knew she'd do it. Fried and frazzled. Pffh! It’s the way of nature, it is. Nothing lasts. Nothing! And the lovelies, they all turns to rot. And the sun—even that’s gonna go! Gaw-w-w! Doomed, we’re all doomed.”

  Joseph shook his head at the creature’s melodramatic presentation. “I’m sorry, but you had your chance. Now it’s time to go.”

  “Chance?” the grub man sniveled. “What chance? Never really had a chance. Things’r set. Drawn’n quartered. Predestined, we are. No room for chance. Rftt! The rot—it kills you, kills you good. Ain’t my fault. No. Stir the pot and serve the stew, that’s my motto. Can’t blame Mordant for the taste. Not Mordant! It’s the rot. Blame the lovelies. The lovelies got the rot.”

  Eunice may have drooled upon herself, so great was her stupefaction with the grub man. However, when she glanced at Joseph, he just stood tapping his foot impatiently.

  “It's not a fair playing field any more, Joe.” The creature pointed an accusatory finger at Joseph. “But how would you know? Huh? Up there all special. Mmph! Gotta birds-eye view. Ain’t down here in the ruination. And them—” he jabbed his thumb toward Eunice. “The lovelies get the breaks. Chance. Prfft! The only ones with a chance are you.” Then he muttered something and began nervously kneading his abdomen. “Knew it. I just knew it.”

  “Get your stuff,” said Joseph to the worrisome creature. “C'mon, sun’s setting. We ain't got forever.”

  But the creature just grumbled and started tromping back-and-forth again, his face drawn in near-comedic misery.

  Eunice looked quizzically at Joseph. He sighed heavily and then nodded to her, and she seemed to know what he was thinking. So she cleared her throat and wobbled forward. “Listen, y-you,” she said to the pitiful creature. “She w-wants you, so...you're comin' with me.”

  Eunice glanced again at Joseph. This time he arched his eyebrows and a surprised grin creased his lips.

  But the grub ignored Eunice and continued grousing about misfortune, fallen empires, and the deck being stacked against him. “Knew it. I knew she'd do it. Grff! Doomed I was, from the beginning.”

  Eunice looked once more at Joseph for assistance, but he had stepped in a pile of rotten fruit and was busy knocking gooey clods from his heel. So she cleared her throat again and tried to muster a little more authority. “Look, you! You're coming with—”

  “Who're you?” snapped the grub man, glaring rather menacingly from under his immense calloused brows.

  Eunice stumbled backward, startled by the creature's response.

  “Don't start that, Mordant.” Joseph looked up from scraping his shoe on a chunk of concrete. “You know who she is.”

  Eunice glanced between the two of them, but the creature had his hands on his hips and was glowering, waiting for her reply.

  Eunice shrugged. “Me? I-I'm—” she sputtered. “No! Who’re you?”

  “Like you don't know.”

  “W-well, I... I don't.”


  “Oh, I get it,” whined the grub man. “I'm the stranger again.”

  Then he stopped and his tone grew grave. “Can't shake it that easy, Missy. When it's nature, you can't shake it at all.”

  Missy? Eunice caught herself gaping at this fount of pessimism and worry. He seemed so familiar; his words stirred an intangible pang, an ache that she couldn’t quite finger. And that name…

  “I d-don't...,” she stammered. “What’re you saying?”

  Suddenly he scuttled closer, close enough that she could smell the stink of bog and fetid earth on his flesh. A lattice of fine veins was visible under his skin, and his jowls trembled. She instinctively clasped her hand over her nose, partly for fear that he would reach out and touch her with one of those buggy paws. Instead, he tapped his forehead and whispered, “In there, locked up. The stew—it’s waiting to be stirred.”

  Then he tromped back and resumed his gloomy lamentation. “There's laws for it. Calibrations of some sort. Thistle, thastle, brastle, pfffh!” His arms gestured wildly in several directions and saliva sprayed the air. “Things break. Crash and crumble. Brph! And then the weeds. Oh-h, the weeds come up and the bad seed blooms. Just look.” He spread his arms and gestured to the cancerous tree and the fuming horizon. “The poison… Awwkh! The poison. But you know—mmph!—can’t pretend. The rot, it’s done you in.” He doubled over with his hand on his stomach. “Oh-h-h! Done us all in.”

  Eunice stared, both mystified and repulsed by this melancholy troll. Finally, she said, “I'm not sure I like you”

  “I don’t blame you,” he moaned. “Don’t blame you at all. What’s to like? But you—you got the medicine, don’t ya, Missy? Roots and gills and pretty pills. Numbs the pain. The pain… O-o-oh! We knows the pain. Don’t we, Missy?”

  The medicine? How did he—? She glared at him. “Now I’m positive I don’t like you. Who are you?”

  “Mordant,” he snapped. “Mister Mordant. I was the emperor here. Once. I was the king.”

  “Mordant?” Eunice scowled at the creature. “Why, I-I've never—I have no idea who you are.”

  “Get your stuff,” said Joseph to Mister Mordant, shaking the final clods of fruit from his shoes. “You know the drill. Whatever she left you with—.

  “Nothin’! She left me nothin’ ‘cept this ulcer. Gaw-w-w...” He pressed his palms to his stomach and made an awful face. “Shoulda known. Thorns n’ thistles. Pfft! Doomed. I was doomed from the start.”

  “Alright then,” said Joseph. “Say goodbye to—” he stared up into the tree and grimaced, “to home.”

  Then something happened that totally caught Eunice off guard. Mordant's eyes pooled with tears and he began sniffling and pressing in upon her, wringing his hands in anguish. “It's a mistake, Missy. Tell her it's a m-mistake.” His chest heaved and a terrible trembling overtook him. He wiped his snotty nose and slurped, “Can't j-just lemme go. We was friends. All of us. Oh-h-rt! It’s a m-mistake. Tell 'er.”

  Then he turned and scuttled back into a burrow at the base of the tree. Ducking inside, he snuffled about, and then peered at them with sad, languid eyes.

  But at the moment, Eunice did not feel sympathy for Mister Mordant. In fact, something he said had sent gooseflesh skittering across her forearms. For now, she remembered that name.

  “What'd you call me?” Eunice cautiously approached the earthen hovel. “That name…”

  Mordant dabbed his eyes and sniffled. Then he slunk deeper into the hole, looking rather frightened.

  “You called me Missy. My mother was the only one who ever called me that. And I didn’t like it.” Eunice leaned forward, squinting at Mordant. “Who are you?”

  “You'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted,” Joseph said. “Now come on.” And he turned and began walking into the gloomy basin.

  Eunice stood there at the base of the monstrous black tree, studying this strange being huddled, sniveling, in its burrow. Missy. The mention of that name sent her mind reeling. Memories from her past—memories of the most awful kind—seemed to reawaken with a newfound life. What else did this thing know about her?

  Mordant peeked tentatively from inside the lair. “But we was friends,” he mewed.

  “Yeah? Well, not any more.” Then she pointed in Joseph's direction. “After you… Mister Mordant.”

  Mordant grumbled something, burst out of the burrow, and scurried after Joseph on his stubby legs.

  Eunice watched the two of them make their way through the wretched minefield of roots and splattered pods, back onto the highway—Joseph limping in methodical rhythm, and Mordant commiserating with himself in animated discussion.

  The fiery-ringed sun looked larger now, consuming most of the horizon. What awaited her there? What other surprises might she encounter in this strange inner world? And how much more personal was this going to get?

  Missy. Eunice hadn’t heard that name in 20 years. But the monsters that name summoned provoked a fear that no diseased tree or grotesque grub could eclipse.

  She stood alone under the black tree and looked up into the gnarled branches. Its shade cast an oppressive pall over this place, and disease oozed from the earth like radioactive waste from a nuclear meltdown.

  Eunice prepared to hurry off, when a breeze drifted across the asphalt, stirring the haze and rattling the branches. The grim distant moaning rose and, for the first time, she recognized it as voices—a legion of sobs and wails joined in some dread chorus. Eunice peered back up at the brooding tree.

  Fight. Yes, she could do that.

  Eunice shivered and bustled over the roots and cracked asphalt toward her companions, anxious to leave the shadow of the devil tree. However, she couldn’t help but wonder if its disease had already poisoned her.

  SIX

  “Follow the stream,” Joseph called over his shoulder, maintaining his methodical, determined, pace.

  The stream, however, was nothing more than a black rivulet that twined its way through the asphalt, a vein of toxic sludge oozing downward into the smog-shrouded basin. Knowing the source of this rancid liquid made the process all the more difficult for Eunice. The smell of the rotten fruit—the spring from which this black brook originated—seemed to wrap her in a funk. Eunice found herself fending off ghosts from her past she’d believed were long since exorcised.

  Mordant kept glancing back over his shoulder at Eunice, twitching, slurping, and making all manner of ghastly noises. Who was this creature? And what did he know about her and her past? She had a mind to query him, drill him for answers. Yet engaging a worrisome, arachnid-like old man who knew too much about her was about as thrilling as swan-diving into a sewer.

  The highway continued its descent into the hazy basin. Along the way, they passed random debris: a twisted fender, a rusted speed limit sign, shards of broken mirror and stray lug nuts. As disconcerting as it was to come upon evidences of wreckage in this dreamworld, it seemed to quell some of her unease. Whatever this place was, it was somehow connected to hers, as if the two worlds had overlapped and she was traversing a seam. Maybe that’s why Joseph had described it as a crossroad or intersection. Yet the possibility that her world—the real world—was interlaced with this one did not eliminate her fears. It did, however, keep her from wanting to click her heels three times and return to the pileup on the 210. At least, for the moment.

  Joseph remained a short distance ahead of them, but his pace had intensified. From here, his limp appeared even worse. Yet he had no problem outdistancing Eunice and the muttering Mordant.

  Despite Joseph’s exhortations to not over-think things, Eunice found herself in an anxious loop, wondering at the images Mister Mordant seemed to have conjured within her. Finally, she made up her mind to explore the issue with her guide. Drawing a deep breath, she jogged past the creature who issued a surprised grunt as she passed.

  “We need to talk.” She came alongside Joseph, panting.

  “You did good back there,” he said.

  “
Huh?”

  “You know, telling him he’s coming with us. That was good. Taking charge like that could be helpful around here.”

  “Uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Joseph continued trudging forward and Eunice scrambled to keep up with him.

  Finally, she said, “Listen, can you slow down just a bit?”

  He glanced at her without responding or interrupting his pace in the least. If a power-walking contest was ever held in Winterland, she was sure he would be a finalist.

  “Hello?” she said. “Earth to Joseph. Can you slow down?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “That's what he wants.”

  “Who?”

  “Mordant.” Joseph's tone was stern. “He wants you to slow down. In fact, he wants you to stop—can’t you see that? Things like him don't survive by moving.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the mumbling grub man and cringed at the thought. “Okay, I guess we’ll keep moving.”

  “That’s what I thought. Sometimes it’s the only thing you can do to survive. You know—one foot in front of the other. Keep breathing. Keep moving. Because if you listen to him long enough, you’ll wanna stop. Trust me. You'll wanna pull up a chair and have a pity party and just stop trying all together. In fact, jumping off an overpass might seem like a reasonable option. Not many people can listen to him and move on. It’s a miracle your mother ever did.”

  She had never viewed her mother’s life in terms of something miraculous.

  Eunice glanced back at Mordant. “He can do that? Then why’re we bringing him with us? Can’t we just, like, think him into the cornfield or something?”