Jan. 24
Jilly,
Work is going pretty well though it’s been hard to focus. We’ve started the new quarter, so now I’ve got my own lesson plans. I like that better—it really feels like the classes are mine. The first issue of the revived student newspaper came out last week—just a Xeroxed newsletter, but the students are so proud. The top story was about Mandy and the police search for whoever hurt her. I’m not sure what to make of that because Mark wrote it. He even went to the police station to interview officers. If he were the guilty party, wouldn’t he want to stay as far away from the police as he could? Or is he trying to hide in plain sight? We did read “The Purloined Letter” for class. He wrote a very good essay about how our brains filter things out that they think aren’t important. Smart kid. Too smart?
To answer your question, I’m not sure how things are with Jon. We’ve been doing stuff together, and he’s working to “to keep me safe.” But I need my space! That’s not easy with him living right above me, where he can see when I come and go. I’m afraid I’m becoming paranoid and that will hurt our relationship. We got into a fight after he had been in my apartment to install a deadbolt in the door. I thought some things were out of place and accused him of going through my things. I probably just forgot where I put stuff—I haven’t been sleeping well since Mandy’s death.
We haven’t broken up, but things are tense. I want this to work; I need a friend here. There really is no one else I could hang out with here. I do not fit in! Not to mention that it would make living here and work awkward at best. I should probably just chill, right?
XO
MJ
Feb. 10
Dear Prof. Johns,
I need advice on how to handle my senior English class. We started discussing Updike’s “The A & P” in class today. I don’t know why I thought it would work to discuss a story about a teenaged boy and his reaction to three teen girls going to the grocery store in their swimsuits. I guess I thought they would relate to it. Relate they did. I was a little late getting to class (after lunch) and someone had drawn two ice cream cones on the white board with the caption “I want to lick ‘the two smoothest scoops of vanilla’” under it, quoting that line from the story referring to Queenie’s breasts. I tried to stick with my lesson about the story’s plot, but the kids kept snickering. When I asked them to identify the story’s “climax,” some of the kids laughed so hard they fell out of their seats. It shouldn’t have been that funny to them. I mean, I was using ASL, so I signed climax as “peak,” not the other meaning—but I made the mistake of writing the word on the whiteboard, too. This one kid, Mark, told everyone to calm down and give me my C-L-I-M-A-X.
Rookie blunder? How do I salvage this and regain control of the class? Thank you in advance for any advice!
Mary Jane Bradford
Feb. 12
Jill—
Just a quick note to let you know that it looks like I was right about Mark. The cops arrested him today—not for killing Mandy, but for child porn. Apparently he hid a camera in the girls’ dorm here and had videoed girls taking showers and so on. They haven’t found anything connecting him to me or Mandy’s death yet, but a lot of his files are encrypted. I’m sick, but relieved.
M.J.
Feb. 14
Mom,
Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you are having a good one. I wanted to tell you I love you a bunch!
Jon made me dinner tonight to celebrate Mark’s arrest and Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that romantic?
Love,
Mary Jane
Mom and Jill—texting for safety. Turned Wifi off on my phone. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I really wish you were here with me. Both of you. Just sent you an email, Mom. Please reply as if all is OK. I’m afraid Jon is monitoring what I do on his network, and has surveillance set up in my apartment and can watch what I do there. I’m in my bed now, with the covers over my head.
I went up to Jon’s for dinner. I dressed up for the occasion in high heels, a pencil skirt, and a low-cut top. He had a box of chocolate cordials for me, a little something for Valentine’s Day, he said. So of course I let him kiss me. Mom, sorry you have to hear this, but he reached down and brushed my breasts, first with his hands, then with his mouth. He smiled and signed, “smoothest scoops of ice cream.” He stepped back a bit and winked. I think my heart skipped a few beats. That line’s from a story I just taught. How could that be random? At best, Jon’s a snoop. At worst—well, I don’t think I need to spell that out for you.
I couldn’t think of a good way to leave right then, since we hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Not that I had any appetite. I just picked at my food for a while. Then I told Jon that I wasn’t feeling that well and wanted to go back to my place to lie down.
I stopped in my bathroom to splash water on my face. It wasn’t exactly a lie that I don’t feel good. So, I’m standing there drying my face off with the hand towel and I happened to look at the light switch plate. It’s got a decorative design of flowers around the switch. Well, this time I noticed that middle of one of the flowers—a black-eyed susan—was actually just a hole. Perfect for a hidden camera—pointed straight at the shower.
My first thought was Mark, but how would he have gotten in? My second thought was Jon. My gut says he’s watching my every move here. I’m afraid what he would do if he knew I thought he might be Mandy’s killer—or worse. Right now, he thinks I think it is Mark. Heck, the police think it is Mark. Maybe it is. Either way, I texted the lead detective working my case, and he’s on his way.
There’s someone at the door.
Feb. 16
Dear Mom and Jill,
The police arrested Jon. You won’t believe this. Apparently Mark had cameras all over the community—at school, but also in other places, including one in a tree outside of Jon’s house. That camera caught Jon killing Mandy. Mark’s lawyer negotiated a plea bargain—Mark gave them the footage in exchange for a juvenile sentence. And even though Mark has all kinds of inappropriate videos and pictures, he never shared them with anyone.
The cops even brought Mark to Jon’s house so he could help them figure out Jon’s computer and surveillance equipment. Jon had cameras in every room of my apartment! The school has an empty dorm staff apartment. It is tiny, but I’m moving there for now. I’m not sure I want to stay here after school is over, but I feel like I owe my students to at least finish out the year.
MJ
***
THURISAZ
Brighid Meredith
Greg snapped on his respirator. Razor wire and tank traps blocked the road. A faded red warning sign read: High Frequency Hagalaz Area. He glanced in the mirror. Mara, their eldest daughter, was reading a pulp romance. When they rolled to a stop, she looked out her window and asked, “This it?”
Greg’s wife, Jan, turned in her seat to face their eldest daughter. “Proper English, please. You should have said, ‘Is this it?’”
Greg rolled his eyes as he handed the map to Jan. “I need you to navigate. GPS won’t work here since the Feds blocked the whole valley off the system.”
“Cool!” Mara pushed her nose against the lead windows. “Looks dangerous—”
“English! And what it looks like is a waste of time.” Jan opened up her sat-phone and started checking their bank accounts. “And this is a huge a waste of money—we can barely afford gas, and so help me god if you scratch the PEV!”
The Protective Environment Vehicle, or PEV, had been a joint purchase. Both Greg and Jan had dipped deep into their savings to buy the newest model. It was even rated for fifteen minutes of sustained exposure. Family outings were supposed to have drawn the family closer together, but since they had gotten the PEV, Jan and Greg had done nothing but fight.
“Well, we can’t spend the rest of our lives in a shelter. The Feds’ rations will only last another half a year”—Greg tried getting Jan’s attention as he spoke, but Jan kept scrolling through her phone—“and then everyone
will starve, regardless of status.” Greg snarled and exited the PEV. “Not that you care, since you won’t look up from your goddamn phone!”
Roger, the family Doberman, barely followed Greg out before he slammed the door shut behind him. He took a minute to stretch and take a few deep breaths through his respirator. Greg reminded himself not to blame Jan—the Shattering had been hard for everyone.
The Shattering had been a series of earthquakes that devastated almost all the great cities. But the earthquakes had only been the start. The Shattering had also opened vents deep within the Earth that spewed forth Hagalaz, a poisonous corrosive gas that lingered on the planet’s surface.
The valley that Greg had brought his family to bore evidence of Hagalaz. It was flat and utterly barren. Brown slime covered the ground everywhere, and the only break in the horizon was a single tabletop hill. The hill was where he was taking his family.
He cut and dragged the razor wire off the road and checked to see if there was a tank-trap: trenches and mounds of piled earth were meant to stop most vehicles from passing through. The Feds had dug them to keep citizens from entering the more dangerous Hagalaz areas. But that was before the first of the food riots, back when there were still enough soldiers left to police sites such as these.
It turned out that there had once been such a trap blocking the road, but after several years of exposure to Hagalaz, all that was left of the trench was a shallow ditch. Roger pissed on the warning sign. Greg kept his back to the PEV, unsealed his haz-suit, and did the same—pissed on the Feds’ damn sign. The government didn’t want people to know about the hilltop—but Greg knew all about the Feds’ lies.
When Greg got back, Jan still hadn’t touched the map. Instead of fighting with her, he decided to drive forward without navigation. Everything was flat anyways, and he could clearly see the hill. So he eased off the brakes, stepped on the gas, and passed into the valley. The PEV jolted as he crossed the old tank-trap, and everyone inside was jostled. Jan had been just about to open her mouth, likely to yell at Greg for possibly scratching the PEV, when a cry came from the backseat.
“Mom.” Mara plugged her ears. “Tara’s hungry!” Tara was the youngest in the family, still a baby, and she had just woken up from her nap.
Jan handed back a jar of baby food and told Mara to feed her younger sister. After the customary complaint, Mara obliged and began spooning the gruel into Tara’s mouth. Seconds later, the cry was replaced with a happy coo.
While they drove, they saw a man walking toward the hill. The man’s haz-suit was tattered at the hems, with large rips exposing his face and arms. Oozing blisters covered his bared skin. The sight of him shocked the family, and Jan locked all the doors. As they rolled past the man, he held out his hand for help, but Greg looked straight ahead and never stopped.
“Mom. Mom!” Mara had pasted herself to the back window so that she could keep watching the man. “Do you see him?!”
“Fourth-Class scum,” Jan whispered under her breath. “Mara’s too young to understand. This is your fault.” Jan glared at Greg before turning back toward Mara. “Don’t mind that man, honey. He was probably kicked out of the shelter for thieving.”
They continued riding in silence.
Atop the hill were two black obelisks standing a meter apart. The Feds had denied they existed, but Greg had discovered them in an old podcast. The two obelisks together formed a thurisaz, or a gateway. A person who walked through a thurisaz would disappear and would theoretically re-emerge in a land without Hagalaz. But since no one had ever returned, the theory was still unconfirmed.
Greg left his family in the PEV at the base of the hill while he scouted ahead. He walked around the thurisaz, running a hand across the black stone. Despite the distance, he thought he could hear Tara crying again. He glanced down the hill, back toward the PEV, and saw the smoke. The smoke blanketed the land in the distance—it was mostly white, with tints of yellow. There was no mistaking it: Hagalaz.
He heard slime slurping under someone’s footstep, and thought that Jan had sent Mara up to get him. He turned, with the words already on his lips, “I told you to wait—” But it wasn’t Mara. The man that they had driven past on the valley floor, the man in the tattered Hazmat suit, had reached the top of the hill. Greg backed away, wishing he had a weapon. But the man never so much as glanced at Greg; he just looked up to heaven, stretched his arms out, smiled wide enough for a blister on his lip to split open, and stumbled through the thurisaz. He then disappeared completely.
Greg circled the gateway. No trace was left of the man. Again, Greg felt the columns—smooth, cold, and now humming slightly. Holding his breath, he thrust his arm through the gateway—but nothing happened. He thought that it only would work if a person stepped completely through. He was tempted to walk through it then and there, but the temptation was momentary. He refused to leave without his family, including Roger.
The wind shifted, and Hagalaz started rolling toward the hill. Greg ran back toward the PEV, cutting corners, leaping over the stray boulder. He slipped and landed in the brown sludge, getting the slime all over his backside. He had to stop a moment to check his suit—it was stained, and would stink. But it had no penetrations, so it was still functional.
He found his family waiting below. The PEV’s recirculators were running, and Mara had been watching a show on one of the PEV’s monitors. Greg opened the door, still panting from his run down the hill. “It’s up there. The thurisaz, it’s actually up there!”
Jan showed him her phone. “A report said Hagalaz is headed our way.” A blinking red hazard light was flashing over an image of the hilltop. “We need to leave.”
“We still have time.” Greg tried explaining, but Roger jumped up on him and slobbered all over his facemask. Roger’s tail was wagging vigorously, and kept hitting Mara in the face.
“Dad!” Mara complained as she tried pushing Roger’s tail away.
“No.” Jan pointed out the window. The setting sun fell behind the hill and threw a shadow over the PEV while painting the distant Hagalaz red. “We need to leave now. Besides, the Feds think the thurisaz and Hagalaz are related—”
“Jan, I saw that man go through. You have got to believe me … He just disappeared.”
“He’s probably dead then.” Jan crossed her arms. “Well? You saw your stupid thurisaz. And we paid a fortune to drive you here, but now that you’ve seen it, can we please go?!”
“Go where? Back to the shelter? To starve? Food’s running out.” Greg grabbed the keys and got out.
“It’s only temporary!” Jan shouted. “The Feds are making new warrens, with hydroponics—”
“Everyone out!” Greg opened the back door. Roger jumped out, tail and ears flat. Roger wore protective boots over his paws to protect against any residual acid on the ground. The boots wouldn’t provide full-body protection to Roger though. If Hagalaz hit, then Roger wouldn’t last more than thirty seconds. But Hagalaz wouldn’t hit, at least not before Greg got Roger and the rest of the family through the thurisaz. After that, haz-suits wouldn’t matter. Everyone would be safe.
Mara groaned but finally got out. Greg unbuckled Tara from her baby-seat and carried her on his shoulders.
When Mara was out of earshot, Jan hissed: “You are killing us.”
Greg was the last up the hill. He had carried Tara the whole way up. Hagalaz had just enveloped the hill’s base, making the hilltop an island in a sea of sulfuric poison. Down below, Hagalaz covered the land, including the PEV.
When the fog rolled over the PEV, Jan swore, “What a waste of a fucking fortune.” She spoke loudly enough for the kids to hear this time, her English as immaculate as ever, despite the profanity. But Jan’s angry voice still upset Tara, and Greg had to bounce the baby to keep her from crying.
“We aren’t going to need it where we’re going,” Greg reminded her. They had reached the top and they stopped to stare at the obelisks. The black stones rose ten meters into the air, maki
ng an impressive monument. Even more impressive was the fact that the glyphs etched across the stone remained clear and legible.
Jan thumbed toward the obelisks. “This is it? You wasted everything just to see this?!”
“They aren’t a pile of sludge yet, are they?” Greg said. Unlike all the rest of the world, the obelisks seemed immune to Hagalaz. Even iron and steel would succumb to Hagalaz, but these black rocks were made of something else entirely, possibly otherworldly.
While Jan and Greg argued, Mara circled the glyphs and began tracing them out with her delicate and perfect fingers. After going around the thurisaz once, she turned to Greg with a huge smile on her face. “They vibrate!”
“—stay away from those!” Jan yelled from a distance. She refused to get anywhere close to the thurisaz. “Those rocks are dangerous!”
“Not as dangerous as that.” Greg pointed. The wind continued blowing against the hill which caused the Hagalaz to climb. Down below the PEV’s alarm went off—the five- minute warning, five minutes until the last of the PEV’s plastic shielding dissolved. Jan almost started back down the hill as though to save the PEV.
“Jan!” Greg blocked her path. “You won’t make it. It’s too far. Besides, we don’t need it!”
Jan swore again. She turned to the thurisaz. “How do your precious”—she waved her hands at the obelisks—“work then?” She stepped closer to it, stopping right in front of a caution sign, a placard glued to an obelisk.
“We just walk through.” Greg handed Tara to Jan and took a step—his foot just crossed the threshold—
“Wait!” Jan said. “Send the dog first …”
The fog was rising, but it wasn’t even halfway up the hill yet. There was still time to humor Jan, if it would get her to cross the threshold with Greg.
Tripping the Tale Fantastic Page 11
