EverFall

by Joe Hart

  I didn’t realize the bottle was in my hands until I looked into the mirror and saw it there. I wanted to look away, but my image was so clear in the glass, so sharp, I was mesmerized. Again my reflection wore different clothes, but I was closer to my current age. I lifted my hand, but the other me didn’t follow suit. Instead, he lifted the bottle and drained a few swallows. The bottle in the mirror had a label, and the clothes were mine. I still had them, I remembered, although now the jeans were torn and—

  A hole opened up on the left knee of the jeans my reflection wore. He raised the bottle and took another swig, and sighed silently with pleasure. Blood seeped out of the hole at his knee, my knee. It coated the blue jeans and stained the material almost black. I still had the scar from tackling Sara off her bike in front of the passing car. But she never would have been in the street if I hadn’t slipped off to have a drink.

  Jane had taken Jack uptown and I was watching Sara, except I wasn’t. I was drinking, even though there were no clouds in the sky. Somewhere behind me in the memory I heard the soft sound of a door closing, and it echoed in the house where I now stood.

  My grip tightened on the bottle’s neck, and I brought it closer to my face. I could smell the liquor, and looked down to see the cap was off. It smelled so good, so warm and welcoming. My hand shook and sent ripples through the brown liquid. I needed to forget how I almost let my daughter die in the street. No, almost killed her. Tears sprang to my eyes. I never told Jane that I’d had a drink that day, I couldn’t bring myself to.

  The guilt and the shame coalesced into something new, a feeling I encountered each time the sky darkened. I wanted to drink and hide away from the storm of my memories. I wanted to curl up on the floor, shrink until there was nothing left, cease to exist.

  “You can, you know,” a voice said behind me.

  My impulse was to look up in the mirror to see who spoke, but I couldn’t stand to look at myself anymore, so I turned to face the shadow at the head of the stairs.

  It stood motionless, blending with the background of darkness that coated the far end of the room. I could see its eyes, though, cold and piercing, the same color as mine.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You can cease to exist. You’ve lived with pain and fear most of your life, and it’s not your fault. There’s no reason for it. Fairness doesn’t even enter into this, not when you’ve been plagued by something you don’t understand, can’t understand.”

  The shadow’s words sounded cool, soothing to my ears, and I realized that its voice was a version of my own, the one I used with Jane when I was trying to hide the fact that I was drunk.

  “Why?” I asked, tears coming again to my eyes. It was what I wanted to know from the moment the fear began. Why me? Why did I have to suffer? What was the purpose?

  “It’s just how things go, how the world works. You can’t question it, you just have to deal with it. No one can blame you for having a drink once in a while.”

  I nodded. That was what I’d told myself over and over. Each time I turned my truck into the parking lot of the liquor store. Each time I poured myself a drink, that was what I’d said. I deserved the relief, the numbness it brought.

  The shadow stepped forward into the light, and it was like looking in the mirror again. Its face was an exact replica of mine in the flesh, down to the growth of beard on my cheeks. The figure wore the same wool coat, but below the belt its legs were still shrouded in roiling darkness. “Take a sip and we’ll talk about it. Maybe this is what you’ve been waiting for,” it said, gesturing to the room, and I saw its hand float upward toward the noose also. “Death is the final escape, right?”

  I squinted at it, swallowed. The bottle was near my collarbone, hovering close enough to smell again. My mouth watered for a taste. I wanted to douse myself in the whiskey, to drown the fear and self-loathing that boiled beneath my skin. I wanted it to all go away.

  “Yeah, I’m so tired,” I said.

  My likeness nodded. “I understand. Go ahead, have a drink and we’ll figure things out. No one would do any different. In fact, your family might be safer without you around.”

  A sob escaped me, and I looked at the floor. It blurred with the tears that coursed out of my eyes and onto my cheeks. I’d almost killed my daughter with neglect, with my fear, with my addiction. When would I make a mistake again? Would it be my son this time? My wife? All three? Would I drive when I shouldn’t and crash? The thought made me cringe, and I blinked, wiping away the tears with the heel of my free hand.

  “Okay,” I said. “You’re right. I’ll be saving them.”

  The thing that wasn’t me smiled and agreed with a sympathetic nod of its head. I brought the bottle up to my chin, relishing the thought of being drunk again. It would take the edge off what I had to do next. I’ll be saving them, I thought as I tipped the bottle to my lips and paused.

  Saving them.

  My wife and kids weren’t safe. They were here, in this world somewhere. I needed to find them. That’s why I was there. The clarity of the thought magnified until it consumed and pulsed in every fiber of my mind.

  The bottle dropped away from my mouth, and my likeness frowned. An invisible veil shifted, and for the first time since I stepped into the house, I became aware of its presence. It clung to me with desperation, tried to slip back over me, to cover me in doubt and old memories of failure, addiction, and weakness. Everything but the memory of why I was there. I focused on that memory. The journey I was on, my family. The veil receded more. I closed my eyes and saw them, felt them in my arms, held them close, breathed them in. They needed me; they’d always needed me. The veil fell away. I opened my eyes.

  My twin had a snarl frozen on its face, and the darkness below its belt was higher than before. Shadow slid up from the floor and began to cloak it once again. “You need it,” it said through clenched teeth.

  I shook my head and tipped the bottle.

  Whiskey poured out onto the floor and splashed in a widening puddle at my feet. “No!” it yelled from the other end of the room as darkness inched gradually up its chest.

  “I don’t need you anymore,” I said. It screamed in response, its voice changing from my own into a deeper tone that radiated anguish. It took a halting step forward and stopped. I continued to pour the bottle out, the whiskey permeating the room with a scent that smelled much less alluring than it had moments before. The thing in my clothes took another begrudging step as it tried to hold itself back. A force pulled at it, dragging it forward with an unseen grip. Only its face remained free of shadow, a grimace of pain carved into its appearance, which broke the illusion of humanity.

  “You’re weak! You’re broken! You’re nothing,” it hissed.

  “I was, but not anymore.” I watched in morbid awe as its face swirled into something unrecognizable before shadow swallowed it completely. Its foot stepped forward again and landed on the seat of the chair in the middle of the room. With one motion, it pulled itself up onto the rickety seat and stood, arms vibrating at its sides, before reaching up to grasp the hanging noose. The bottle in my hand glugged once as a bubble raced up to flush the remaining liquor out. The shadow pulled the noose around its neck and tightened the rope, the knot to one side of its head. I turned the bottle completely upside down, and the last dregs slipped free of the glass.

  The shadow burned with licking flames of darkness at its edges. It stood completely still for one beat, and then kicked the chair from beneath its feet. Its body fell a foot and jerked to a stop at the end of the rope, its head jolted sideways, and a resounding crack filled the room as its neck broke.

  I stared, transfixed by the sight of the swinging body. At any moment, I expected it to fly into life, to jerk on the rope and claw at my face for purchase. It stayed still except for the pendulum sway of death.

  The last drops dripped from inside the upside-down bottle, and I lowered it. My hand hurt from gripping it. The room felt different somehow, and it wasn�
��t until I turned to face the mirror that I saw I no longer had a reflection in its depths. The noose behind me was motionless and empty, the chair below it back in place. Everything was just as before.

  I stepped forward and peered into the vase. There were more dark streaks, and several clotted together to form a pulsing tumor that stuck to the glass. As I looked at it, I felt the sensation of being studied at the same time. This was what Dagnon wanted, there was no question about it—it was evil.

  I picked up the tapered vase and shifted my gaze from it to my other hand, where I still held the empty Jack Daniels bottle. I breathed out. I knew what I had to do.

  I walked down the short hill to where the rusted guards waited, my feet leaving the dried soil behind for the solid feel of rock beneath them. The creatures heard my approach and stood from where they sat on the ground at the mouth of the passage.

  “What took you so damn long?” one of them said as I neared.

  “Oh, just this,” I said, tossing it the glass vase with the liquid inside.

  Its black eyes shot open in surprise, and it leapt forward to catch the bottle. Without breaking my stride, I drew the curved knife from the back of my pants and thrust its tip through the chest of the other creature.

  The knife drove through its rusted hide without slowing. I jammed my hand hard against the handle and felt the blade break through the other side of the creature’s back. Its face was close to mine, and a small amount of satisfaction rose within me as I saw the look of disbelief on its jagged features.

  The other guard bellowed, and I yanked the knife free as I spun toward it. The vase sat on the ground nearby, and the rusted figure was almost upon me, its eyes narrowed to slits, its clawed hands reaching for my throat. I stabbed at its face and felt the blade make contact. A grating sensation traveled through the knife and up my arm. The weapon lodged in its left eye socket, halfway to the hilt. The grinding I felt was the tip dragging across the inside of its crusted skull as it shifted.

  I drew back my arm and pulled the blade free. The creature stood on wobbling legs for a full second before it crumbled and fell in a pile of flaking rust at my feet. When I turned to find the first guard I attacked, it too was a mere layer of sediment on the ground.

  A savage triumph rolled through me looking at the two fallen bodies. At that moment I vibrated with energy, a rush of life pulsing through my veins with the rapid beats of my heart. The danger of what I’d done tried to settle over me, but I shrugged it off and embraced the adrenaline that shook my hands.

  I carefully tucked the knife close to my back again, hiding it as best I could beneath the jacket. I picked the bottle off the ground, hugged it close to my side, and set off down the trail.

  The high points of rock scrolled past, and in no time the clearing came into view. Kotis and Fellow were still on the ground. Fellow hadn’t moved from his position, but Kotis craned his neck around in my direction when he heard my footsteps on the bridge. Dagnon and the other creatures also turned toward me. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Dagnon’s alien face when he saw that I was alone.

  “Ah, Michael. You surprise and delight to no end. But where, may I ask, are your escorts?” Dagnon asked.

  “They fell behind.”

  “I’m sure they did, they can be slow animals at times.” The monster’s eyes left mine and slid to the glass bottle tucked beneath my arm. “Your journey was most beneficial, I’m impressed. Please bring that here, and we’ll see to setting your friends free.”

  I stood my ground, and took a step back when a few of the rust creatures began to move forward. “You need to tell me what’s so important about this bottle and what’s inside before I give it to you.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything, human,” Dagnon spat.

  I casually hefted the bottle in one hand, displaying it above the solid rock we stood on. “Then I guess you won’t mind me dropping this right here?”

  “No!” Dagnon yelled as he took a step forward and raised a clawed hand. His features drew back, tightening his already strained countenance. His cheekbones seemed to shift before he dropped his arm to his side and pulled a smile back from his pointed teeth. “You little bastard.”

  “Just tell me what this is for,” I said. My eyes shot to the ground behind Dagnon, and I saw that Scrim was still there, his feathers ruffling in the breeze. I squinted and tried to remember if his beak had been pointed in the same direction as now.

  “Very well,” Dagnon said. “As I said before, I am Dagnon, the last acolyte of Lonos, God of this world, preserver of the darkness.”

  “Flattened shit!” Kotis called out from where he lay. “Lonos is a fucking myth, you crazy little bird!”

  Dagnon made to take a step toward the chained giant, but I shook my head and tilted the bottle above the rock. I could hear his teeth grind together as he shifted his attention back to me and continued.

  “Lonos was here before the sun rotated. He shaped the land to what it is. He carved the riverbed and planted its tongue in the deepest abyss. My brothers and I served his needs and paid homage to him until he was struck down by an assassin’s poison in an offering.” Dagnon’s eyes throbbed in his sockets with the memory. “A man, from your world. Lonos fell, but his soul was too strong to flee and meant to inhabit his murderer. But the man caught his life force in that bottle and built the house on the plain to protect it. One by one my brothers died or were driven out by creatures such as these.” He motioned to Kotis and Fellow.

  I glanced at my friends again and noticed something strange. Fellow’s right hand was unwinding in slow, delicate movements. The vines and brush that held his wooden palm together were unlatching themselves. I saw the manacle grow loose on his wrist before my eyes shot back to Dagnon, who continued speaking.

  “But I remained faithful to the order, always seeking, never resting, to find a way to reunite my master’s body and soul.” His snake-like eyes burned into me, and he sneered. “When my pets here saw you and your companions across the river, I knew the time had come for rebirth. I knew you would be the one to retrieve the true God’s soul from the wretched prison and return it to his body.”

  My gaze shifted to the ground behind Dagnon, and my heart leapt. Scrim was gone. Trying to keep the tremble from my voice, I said, “If Lonos died that long ago, his body would be dust. There’s nothing to reunite this too.” I gestured with the bottle.

  Dagnon smiled again. “Oh human, you know so little. Look around you and behold Lonos, for you stand in the center of his mouth.”

  I glanced to my left and right, a sick feeling growing in my stomach like a poisonous plant. The high, pointed rocks in the ring around the clearing were suddenly arranged in an order unnoticeable before. Their concentric rings were set in odd formations, like rows of teeth in a shark’s jaw. The flat expanse we stood upon was ridged with small serrations I mistook for natural erosion. Now I could see them for what they were: petrified taste buds. The gap around the perimeter of the tongue was the space for the jaw and gum, long since decayed and solidified to stone. The enormity of the creature that owned the lower jaw we stood inside almost didn’t compute in my mind, and I blinked at Dagnon, who smiled victoriously.

  “You see now, don’t you?” Dagnon asked.

  I nodded, glancing at Kotis and Fellow before returning his gaze. “Yes, I see.”

  “And you know you don’t have a choice but to give me that bottle.”

  I nodded again before I took a step and tossed the bottle. It flew to him, and he snatched it from the air, his eyes flashing in rage.

  “Now set them free,” I said, preparing myself.

  Dagnon caressed the bottle and drew it close to his face. “Lonos, it is time,” he said, grasping the cork at the top of the vase. “Kill them,” he said to the creatures that smiled at one another and began to move forward.

  My body tensed as I reached to my back and looked at Kotis, caught his eye, and winked.

  “What is this?” Dagnon yelled, h
alting the guards in mid-step. The bottle was open a few inches beneath his nose, the yellow liquid inside sloshing back and forth.

  “Oh, that?” I asked. “That’s piss.”

  In one motion I drew the old pistol from my jacket pocket and the blade from the back of my pants. Fellow leap to his feet, the shackles that no longer bound him flew free with a clanking sound. Without looking, I tossed the blade in his direction, hoping he would catch it. With my other hand, I brought the pistol up and centered the sight on Dagnon’s astonished face. The trigger pulled the hammer back with smooth fluidity, and the gun bucked in my hand. Blood flew from Dagnon’s shoulder, and he spun with a cry.

  I was about to squeeze off another shot when one of the rust creatures hit me from the right. Its ragged scales tried to poke through my coat as we crashed to the ground, but none pierced my skin. I struggled to roll away from it and bring up the handgun, but the creature flattened itself on top of me and pressed its face down to mine. Its fetid breath washed across my face as I pushed it back, my head turned to the side. Its jaws snapped shut inches from my cheek, and I twisted beneath it, trying to free my gun hand to get a shot. It lunged forward again, trying to reach my throat, just as a brownish blur raced by behind it. The creature froze, its eyes widening in shock as its head tipped from of its body and rolled across my chest. Its form collapsed in an array of rusted chunks, and I stood, shaking its remains off. Scrim swooped straight up into the sky, and then dive-bombed another creature, cutting it in half with his bladed wing.

  Fellow yelled to my left, and I saw that he had caught the knife. It flashed in a whipping motion that cut the throat of one creature and then plunged into another’s stomach. A creature dashed toward me, its hands bunched into solid fists, and I shot it between the eyes, a puff of smoke flying from its nostrils before it disintegrated.

  “Michael! Free me!” Kotis yelled, and I ran the few yards to his side.