The grey wolf was fear. Endless and eternal fear that she had discovered as a child, and it had come for her.
Paper and ink, she thought, trying to escape from this place, the wolf. Panic churned within her, but it was all slowly fading to a numb nothingness. The feeling of not feeling crept over her, and she felt herself being removed from reality bit by bit.
but this isn't reality
she yelled in her mind, opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. She was stuck and alone on the beach, because they'd caught her. Finally, almost gracefully, the hunters had emerged from the shadows, like the grey wolf, and she was caught.
Chunks of ice rolled with the waves, and in the distance the city was burning. Huge buildings, tall and soaring over the coast, engulfed in fire. Red flames licked the blue-grey-black sky, smoke billowing up through the falling snow.
the house was burning
burning
Mae choked on the acrid smoke and tasted the ashes. It stopped her breathing, and the feeling of being pressed in from all sides, of being unable to move overwhelmed her. She felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted to scream, did scream, but no sound came out.
"Hey, honey." It was her dad's voice.
"Daddy?" She looked up at him, and he was standing there with her mom, and they were both alive and well, but she knew that it wasn't true—that it was trick her mind was playing.
"Yes, babyluv?"
"What if I get lost over here?"
Mae heard herself say the question, and her dad twined his fingers in her hair and smiled.
"Get lost over where?"
"Here in the magical lands," she said, and remembered when she was a child.
"Oh, I don't think you'll get lost."
"But what if I do?" She paused, her mind screaming THIS ISN'T REAL THIS ISN'T REAL THIS ISN'T REAL, but her mouth saying, "If I get lost, will you come find me?"
He nodded and then kissed the top of her head.
"Of course, babyluv. I'll come find you."
The city was on fire, black smoke and burning embers wafting into the air, and she was alone except for the wolf. The long grey wolf, with its yellow eyes.
"Daddy?" she asked, but he was gone.
Wind howled over the crashing waves, and the flames in the burning city swelled.
Mae opened her eyes and the pain exploded. She blinked, the darkness flickering in and out of her vision. Several dark figures carried her on what felt like a gurney on wheels, pushing her over bumps. Her entire body was bound tightly, and even if she could have moved, her limbs felt distant and numb.
The cold? she wondered as her arm fell loose of the straps holding them in place, and she could do nothing to control it.
Darkness ebbed and she felt a mild pressure on her arm as someone put it back into place. She tilted her head back and looked at the burning house. The flames were still small, the entire home not yet engulfed, and she remembered both Ryan and Adam at the same moment.
The darkness swooped back in like a wave rushing up a sandy beach
icy beach
and then it was gone and she was watching burning embers float up through the falling snowflakes. The fire and ice floating together in the dark sky, and it was hard to look away.
The figures pushing her on the gurney had guns slung across their backs, and their heads were covered with knit caps, goggles and wireless radios. She looked for a familiar face, but could find none. Mae turned her head to look at the ground for any sign of Ryan or Adam, expecting to see their bodies there, and aching so deeply for getting them involved.
You should have run, because you knew they would never stop, her mom's voice in her head, but it was really her own. She had known, and like so many before, they had died for even being close to her. Mae wondered if it had hurt when they died. She wondered what their last thoughts were, or if they'd even had time to think before it was over.
Several windows on the bottom of the house shattered, and flames lapped up through the holes to the outside of the house. She saw Adam's car, still parked in the driveway, a crumpled mound behind the steering wheel. The window was broken on the passenger side. They'd shot him while he waited for her. He was waiting for her when they'd fallen on him like they'd fallen on her mom.
Her vision blurred, and the icy beach where it was snowing on the crashing waves threatened to return. Her thoughts seemed very far away, and her body felt as though she was floating over the ice-covered walkway toward... a semi truck parked in front of Ryan's home, a large rectangular trailer hooked to the back. The rear doors opened with a hiss, and the lights inside the trailer were a brilliant white, like a thousand suns, and it hurt her eyes to look.
And then she was being lifted. Figures milled about the inside of the truck, their silhouettes fading in and out of the bright lights. As Mae got closer, she could see more of the inside of the trailer. Wires and cables were strung along the floor, taped down and leading to a large rectangular object near the back of the trailer. Several IV stands and monitors stood near the tank. Two female nurses checked the equipment and made notes on their clipboards. The reality of just what the trailer was came crushing down on Mae, and she began to struggle. She flexed her muscles and swung her body from side to side, trying to knock the gurney over. The soldiers next to her held the gurney steady as one of the nurses approached with a syringe.
"Hold off for now, she's already had 50 ccs," a familiar voice said behind her. She turned and saw a man climbing into the trailer. His hair was whiter than it had been in Miami, and he looked thin and gaunt, his cheeks and eyes sunken.
"Hello, Mae," Dr. Whaler said. He smiled and motioned for someone to place a folding chair next to her gurney. He sat down and shivered.
"Cold out there tonight." He placed his hand on hers. Whaler took a deep breath and hesitated before saying anything more. Mae stared at him intently, her gaze like daggers. He held her gaze for several seconds, broken only when the back door to the trailer was shut. The lights in the trailer seemed to brighten, and the people milling about came into more focus. There were not as many as Mae had initially thought. Only two of the soldiers had remained, standing by the door. There were two nurses or doctors, she couldn't tell. At the end of the day, she told herself, it didn't matter. They were the hunters and she was the prey. And she was caught.
Mae figured they were driving away from Ryan's house now. She wondered where she was going, and if Ryan or Adam would come for her. But they were both dead. If there was anything to say about these hunters, they never left a loose end.
Her vision blurred.
The will never stop hunting.
How had they found her? She knew their resources were limitless, but she'd been careful.
Dr. Whaler stood up and leaned over Mae, slapping her gently on the cheeks. She woke again, and the scene before her cleared. She was in a white room. One of the walls was a mirrored window, and she thought of her dad and mom. How many times had they stood behind that window, watching her sessions. She gazed around and saw that she was alone in the room with Dr. Whaler, like so many times before. Even the smell of the room reminded her of that place she'd escaped in Miami.
Mae shook her head, clearing the fuzziness that floated there like low-hanging clouds.
No.
She was in Massachusetts, with Ryan and Adam. Mae remembered the airplane she'd flown in, the hotel that Ryan had paid for, the feel of the carpet in her room on her toes. She could smell the winter air, and see the snowflakes sliding down the windshield of Ryan's car while they listened to Crash, could feel the touch of his hand on hers. Mae could taste his lips and smell his hair.
She remembered the guilt she'd felt as Adam had suddenly reappeared in her life, like a specter from the past. She loved Adam, but it was a different kind of love—one built on memories and nostalgia, where her feelings for Ryan were new and exciting, like a sparking fuse. Her memories suddenly washed away, replaced by a static buzz in her mind, but the lapse only la
sted a few seconds. They'd come into the house. She and Adam. He'd brought her there so she could see Ryan. But then she'd kissed them, and the hunters had come.
They'd killed Ryan, and probably Adam, and taken her outside. She was...
The buzz erupted in her mind, and her head lolled to the side, her eyelids floating shut. When she awoke, she was in the same white room. The room in the building she'd escaped by tearing down.
Impossible.
But she couldn't deny what she was seeing: the white room, and beyond the mirrored window was the stasis tank.
Paper and ink, her father had said, trying to help her anxiety. He'd told her that if she imagined the world as a giant sheet of blank paper upon which anything could be drawn, she had nothing to fear. The world was hers for creating.
No, it was impossible. She looked around, feeling panic only on the edges of her consciousness. She wanted to be afraid, knew that she should be afraid, but the fuzziness was growing, and she simply didn't care about being afraid.
Dr. Whaler sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his belly, watching her mind struggle with her new surroundings.
"Hello, Mae."
She jumped, startled by his voice, as if she'd forgotten that he was there.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"Where you've always been, Mae."
She shook her head, but the motion made her feel sick.
"No," Mae said, struggling to keep her eyes open. "You just brought me here. We're in the back of a big truck, like a trailer or something. You took me from Ryan's house."
She paused and tried to touch her forehead with her hand, to steady the spinning and fuzziness in her mind, but her arms were strapped to the chair with thick, Velcro straps.
"Who is Ryan?" Dr. Whaler asked, leaning forward and taking a pen from the table near his chair. He pulled a pad of blank paper close to him and began jotting notes with the same jagged strokes she'd seen him write so many times before.
"You killed him." She struggled to keep her eyes open and her head clear.
Dr. Whaler stopped writing and peered at her from over the rims of his glasses.
"I can assure you, Mae, that I have not killed anyone." He put the pen down and scooted closer to her.
"You're upset, Mae, and we should talk about that." He put his hand on hers, but she only felt a distant pressure, not the touch of his skin on hers. The feeling in her mind was familiar, one that she had felt after the drugs they gave her before entering the stasis tank. That familiar panic rose inside of her, so distant, yet so vivid and clear.
"You killed Ryan and you killed Adam," she shouted at him.
"I know who Adam is," he said, sighing as he removed his glasses, "but not Ryan."
"You know who he is! Stop lying!"
"This is the first you've mentioned him, Mae." He furrowed his brow and she was surprised to see that he was genuinely concerned. The look on his face, concerned though it was, made her feel even more uneasy and sick. It was a fake concern, she knew it.
"Of course you know who he is," she spat. "You've been watching us both for, what is it now, months? You've known all along."
Dr. Whaler spread his palms in an expression of confusion.
"You have been right here, Mae, in the lab."
"Why are you lying to me?" She screamed and pulled at her restraints. "I know where I've been! I know you know!"
Dr. Whaler smiled, and she could feel the pressure of his hand on hers increasing. She glanced down and saw that he was stroking her skin with his thumbs and pressing down.
"Mae," he said slowly. "You haven't gone anywhere for a long time. I know that this is hard to accept, and maybe your mother and father can help me when they arrive, but you are sick. Your mind is sick, but very powerful. You are here for your safety, and we all want—"
"Wait," she said. "My mom and dad are dead."
Dr. Whaler arched his eyebrows, watching her carefully.
"No, they are very much alive, Mae." He glanced at his watch and said, "In fact, they will both be here within the hour. I know how much you look forward to their visits, and they will be so happy to see you."
"I don't know why you're doing this." She could feel the hot tears in the corners of her eyes, but she fought the urge to cry.
"You're lying. My dad died in Miami when my mom and I escaped. My mom died when the hunters you sent after me killed her."
"Oh Mae, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this. As I was saying, your mind is a powerful thing," he said, "and you've unlocked more power than we could ever have imagined. To keep you safe, you are kept in a stasis chamber where nothing can interact with any of your senses. To quell your anxiety, your father brilliantly came up with an exercise that allowed you to create your own world in which you exist separate from your power, separate from this place you hate so much. You created the escape in your mind, as well as the death of your parents. They probably died because of the guilt you felt for being here, rather than with them. The guilt is deep in your psyche, and it runs with your incredible power."
"Stop it," Mae said, and she couldn't stop the crying now. "Stop lying, I know that you're lying. The building was destroyed. I saw it with my own eyes! The cabin in the woods and the floating forest, I saw it! And Ryan. He kissed me. I felt him kiss me, and hold my hands. I felt him!"
"No, it's in your mind. Your mind has created this... story, doubtless a means of dealing with guilt. Ryan does not exist. He is a figment of your imagination, an illusion you created for yourself to escape your own reality."
"No..."
"Like your friend 'Adam,'" he said, smiling grimly. "Do you remember your friend that you met in the Berkshires? The one you kissed on that mountain ledge? He was another story you told yourself. Not real. I'm guessing that this 'Ryan' is a replacement for Adam. Someone who can handle your growing emotions and mental state."
"Stop telling me this," she said, crying freely now. "I know it isn't true, I know it. You're lying."
"You've done this before, Mae." He retrieved a file from a small attaché case on the floor beneath the table, opened it, and thumbed through the pages.
"You came up with a story of how people came to your school and took you, causing a scene in which people were hurt. A figment of your imagination. A coping mechanism."
"Stop it!" Mae screamed, and she felt that rush of warm air around her, could hear that familiar buzz in her brain.
"Not too long ago, you started telling the story of a psychotic policeman who was hunting you, always hunting you. He called you Mae flowers, April showers, and you hated that. You claimed his name was Morales, and that he was a violent killer who wanted you dead. Obviously, you created this character out of deep-seated fear of the unknown. You are afraid that your power will kill you, just as mercilessly as this Morales fellow would."
"He's real!" Mae shouted, but the doctor didn't acknowledge her.
"Then there's your story about a disgraced reporter searching high and low to uncover the truth about you. In your version of reality, the reporter was killed in a dark room for knowing too much. Probably by this Morales. You want to be rescued, you want people to know the truth, but the fact of the matter is, you are a sick little girl and there is nothing to rescue you from. Your reality is right here in this room, and nothing else exists outside of it. There is no Adam, no Ryan, no kisses, and no rescue."
"STOP LYING!" she screamed, and the pen and paper on his table lifted into the air. The room swirled with warm energy, wiping through her hair like the air in a wind tunnel. The table next to Dr. Whaler was next—lifting and twirling end over end in the air, then smashing into the wall of the narrow room.
Dr. Whaler stood up, removing his glasses and staring with wide eyed wonder, a thin smile on his lips.
"Incredible," he said and motioned at someone behind the mirrored glass. "Even through the serum, she's piquing. And like before, without the music."
The serum he'd concocted was designed to inh
ibit Mae's brain function, which in turn would take away her mind's ability to entangle with dark energy. Without the entanglement, at least in theory, the subject couldn't wreak her havoc, but here, she was clearly able to bypass the serum. He watched for several seconds and then motioned through the mirrored glass. Immediately, one of the doors opened, and a nurse entered the room with an additional syringe.
"Just enough to get her into the tank," Dr. Whaler said. He stepped close to Mae, placed both of his hands on her arms, and leaned toward her until their noses were almost touching.
"Mae, you have always been mine," he whispered. "And you will always be mine. There is no rescue, no hope. Everything you think is real is just a fantasy played out by your mind to escape your reality here, with me... and in the stasis chamber. I want you to remember, as you slide into that nothingness, that you will never escape again. Adam is not real. Ryan is not real. Morales is not real. This entire world you have created outside of this room is all so much fodder for your brain. It is a fantasy. A fiction."
Mae stared back at him, and for the first time in her life, her mind cleared even with the rush of energy and the buzzing in her brain. It all fell to background noise as she stared at him, her eyes dark. She could feel the floating objects in her mind, as if each tiny particle of each object were one and the same with her. It was a clarity she'd never felt before, and especially not in the throes of piquing, as Dr. Whaler called it. She felt a growing excitement and anticipation, a flurry of butterflies in her stomach, a tingling in her fingers.
Mae smiled up at Dr. Whaler, and with a flick of something deep within her mind, she flung the table into his side. The floating table exploded as it struck the doctor, sending him tumbling into the wall with a surprised yell. She flexed that place in her brain, and the chair shot toward the fallen doctor, pummeling him in the back and breaking apart into a million little pieces. The pieces of the table and chair remained in the air, frozen in place.
The nurse was behind her, jabbing the syringe deep into her neck, before Mae could react. She yelped, gulped, and then the world slid instantly into blackness.
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 46
