by Tim O'Rourke
Hooking his finger into the shape of a question mark, he beckoned me forward, then turning, he disappeared amongst the willows again.
“Dad!” I called out. “Dad wait for me!”
Chapter Nineteen
My first thought should have been, “What is my dad doing here? He’s dead, isn’t he?” but to see him again filled my heart with joy, so much so that I thought it was going to explode.
I raced between the trees to where he had been standing. “Dad!” I called after him. “Don’t go, wait for me!” Reaching the spot where I had last seen him, I clawed back the branches of the tree to find him sitting against the trunk reading a book. Hearing the rustle of the branches, he looked up at me and smiled.
“Dad?” I breathed.
“Hey, Kiera,” he said softly, placing the book open on the grass beside him. I looked down at the cover and could see that he had been reading his favorite book, Hamlet by William Shakespeare.
Going to him, I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around his neck. And all at once, the smell of him and the feel of his touch filled me with sadness and longing. All those feelings of loss I had felt since his death washed over me like a tidal wave. The times I had needed him, missed him, wished that he had been there for me, took hold of my heart and it felt like agony.
“Dad,” I began to sob, and my own weeping joined the chorus of unhappiness that haunted this place. The joy I’d felt at seeing him had now vanished. “Dad, I miss you so much,” I told him. Then he was gone, like vapor slipping from between my arms.
“Don’t leave me again!” I cried. “I need you!”
Standing, I spun around on the spot, desperate to find him again. And there he was, sitting against the tree, his favorite book in his hand. Seeing me, he placed the book open on the grass just like he had done before. Again, my heart leaped with joy.
“Dad?” I whispered.
“Hey, Kiera,” he smiled up at me.
Falling to my knees again, I hugged him tight. The smell of Old Spice wafted beneath my nose, and my head swam with images of me on his lap as a child. Those feelings of being safe, secure, and loved came flooding back. I tried to hold onto them as tightly as I held him in my arms.
“Dad,” I whispered against his cheek and it felt soft, freshly shaved. “I need your help. I have to make a decision – a choice – and I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it, Dad.”
He remained silent in my arms, but I didn’t want to let go just in case he disappeared again. With my tears dampening his cheek, I said, “Please tell me what to do.”
Silence.
“Tell me how I should choose,” I begged him.
Silence.
“Please tell me I don’t have to make the choice,” I sobbed. “If there is a way, let this decision I have to make pass me by. Take it from me.”
Silence.
“Tell me who this Elias Munn is,” I whispered through my tears. ”At least tell me that.”
Then he was gone again, like smoke lingering around my fingers. But this time, there was something different. Although my dad had gone, this time he had left his book behind. Picking up the copy of Hamlet and looking down at the page he had been reading, I noticed a smudge of blood across the page. It was like he had highlighted it for some reason. Wiping away my tears, I looked at the words beneath the crimson smear and it read, ‘One may smile and smile, and be a villain!’ I laid the book back on the grass beneath the willow tree, just in case he came back for it.
Then, from a short distance away, I heard the sound of sobbing, but it wasn’t the deep weeping sound that meandered on the breeze, it was something more. Standing, I pulled back the branches of the tree. There was another figure, this one smaller, slender in the distance and I knew at once who it was. I looked back once more at the book, but it had gone. There wasn’t even a bent blade of grass to show that my dad had ever sat there against the tree.
Wiping the tears from my cheeks with the backs of my hands, I headed through the trees towards Kayla. I didn’t rush; I took my time, not wanting to intrude on her personal grief. Like the woods on the side of the Weeping Peak had brought my personal feelings of grief to the surface, they had also stirred something deep within Kayla.
As I approached her, I could see that she was standing before her own weeping willow, her face in her hands as she wept. Kayla’s shoulders shuddered as she rocked back and forth, the sound of her sobbing blending with those that surrounded us. My first instinct was to go to her, hug her in my arms and to comfort her as much as I now needed to be comforted. But I held back, just on the other side of the branches that draped around her. Unseen by her, I peered through the leaves and watched her.
“I love you,” she whispered, looking up as if talking to someone standing by the trunk of the tree.
Turning my head so I could hear her over the sound of the weeping willows, I wondered who it was from her past that had visited her in these woods. Was it her father, Doctor Hunt? Or perhaps her mother, who had been murdered by Sparky?
“I know what I have to do,” Kayla murmured. “I know the decision that Kiera has to make.”
Hearing Kayla mention my name, I snapped my head front and stared at her through the branches.
“I know that I have to be strong until the end,” she continued as she looked ahead as if someone only she could see were standing before her.
From the snippets of her conversation I could hear over the sound of the continuous sobbing, I guessed it was her father she had found in the woods, just like I had found mine. I imagined that he was telling her that she had to be strong for me – after all, if the legend was to be believed, both Kayla and Isidor had been sent to help me.
Then I heard something, another voice, but it was lost amongst the rustling branches of the willows. Kayla continued to stare ahead at the trunk of the tree, tears spilling down her cheeks as her red hair billowed about her shoulders.
“I love you,” she said again and buried her face in her hands. I couldn’t bear to see her suffering any longer, so pulling back the branches, I revealed myself to her. Snapping her head around, she glanced at me, then, quickly back at the tree. I went towards her, my arms open; and with thoughts of my own father in my head, tears began to roll from the corners of my eyes.
“Kayla, it’s okay,” I whispered as I folded my arms around her. But she never hugged me back, she felt rigid in my arms like a waxwork dummy. Then, looking over her shoulder at the tree, I could see a set of footprints in the grass where someone had been standing. Unlike my father’s ghost, Kayla’s had left a trail of footprints that disappeared back into the woods and out of sight.
“We should go,” she said against my chest, as I continued to stare down at the tracks which had been left behind. Why hadn’t I seen them? Because whoever Kayla had been talking to had been hidden from my view behind the trunk of the tree. She hadn’t been looking at the tree at all – Kayla had been talking to someone who had been hiding behind it.
“Who were you talking to?” I whispered.
She made no reply. Then, pulling herself free of my grasp, she turned and headed back into the woods. I looked down at the footprints again and could see by the size that they belonged to a male. But there was something else; with my heart turning cold in my chest, I crouched down and picked up the discarded cigarette butt that had been left by the base of the tree.
Chapter Twenty
“Kayla!” I called after her, but she had gone. Not wanting to lose track of her in the woods, I flicked the cigarette butt away and raced after her.
Tearing aside the branches that blocked my path, I ran in the direction she had gone. At first I feared that I had lost her, then ahead I caught sight of her.
“Kayla!” I yelled. “Wait for me!”
She didn’t stop, or even slow, so I raced after her. Reaching out, I took hold of her arm, spinning her around. “Kayla, are you all right?” I asked her.
“I guess,” she said, looking at me, and
I could see the tracks of tears running the length of her face.
“Why did you run away from me?” I asked her.
“Run away from you?” she said, looking confused.
“Back there,” I said pointing back over my shoulder. “You were crying and I hugged you.”
“Hugged me?” she asked, staring blankly at me. “You never hugged me.”
“Yes, I did,” I insisted.
“Kiera, we’ve been looking for you for ages,” Kayla explained. “You went missing just after we entered the woods.”
“But I was with you over there just a few moments ago,” I breathed.
“Impossible,” someone said, and I glanced back to see Luke and the others coming towards me.
“I know what I saw,” I said. “You were by one of those weeping willows and you were crying.”
“Not me,” Kayla said and she did look genuinely puzzled.
“She’s been with me the whole time,” Luke added. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Kiera,” Isidor said, coming close. “I told you these woods can play with your mind, your sanity.” And he gently squeezed my shoulder.
“What else did you see, Kiera?” Luke asked, and his voice was soft and caring.
“My father,” I said, now feeling utterly confused.
“But your father is dead,” Luke whispered and touched my hand.
“It’s these woods,” Isidor insisted. “I told you we should never have come in here. I knew something like this would happen.”
“Okay, Nostradamus,” Potter growled, pushing Isidor aside. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“I agree,” Luke said, taking me by the arm.
Pulling away from him, I snapped at them all, “I know what I saw!” Then turning, I stormed off through the weeping willows.
The others followed, and it was as if a dark blanket had fallen over all of us. It was more than just the oppressive atmosphere of the woods. There was a darkness seeping between us as a group – a group that had once been tight now seemed to be splitting apart, being unwound at the edges like a frayed rug. But why was this happening and who was yanking on the threads that were tearing us all apart?
Had I really seen Kayla? Had I really seen my father? Isidor had said that the woods messed with your head, that they were haunted by past feelings of sorrow that we had buried deep within us. But why hadn’t the others been affected? I knew all of them were haunted by feelings of loss for loved ones. They had all been hurt. But why, then, had I seen Kayla? If she had just been a ghost, why had she been beneath that weeping willow? Kayla had never caused me any sorrow.
With my head feeling as if it had been wrung through a mangle, I saw the edge of the woods and hurried towards it, just wanting to be free of those weeping willows. Stepping back onto the side of the mountain, I could see that the light from the Light House had faded. The stalagmites which hung above me sparkled, and from where I stood, they did look like a sea of stars. How long had we been inside the woods? It was as if I had lost all sense of time. But how long did it take the Light House to turn? Did it rotate on a twenty-four hour cycle like the sun? I didn’t know, and part of me didn’t care. I just wanted to get to this Light House, get Kayla to hear whatever it was that Coanda hoped she might hear, and then…then what? Make our way to the Dust Palace and…decision time.
Pushing that thought from my mind, I stood and waited for the others to catch up. I watched them clear the edge of the woods and come towards me. They walked together and part of me felt left out, almost excluded from the group.
“It will be night soon,” Coanda said as he strode towards me. Pointing ahead, he said, “We’ll make camp just on the other side of that ridge.”
Looking at Kayla, who was standing close to Potter, or was it the other way around? Was Potter standing close to Kayla? “What about this person who has been following us?” I asked.
“They’ve gone now,” Kayla told me.
“How can you be so sure?” I asked her.
“Because I can’t hear them,” she half-smiled at me.
“Okay?” Coanda said, eyeing me.
“I’m fine,” I told him, setting off towards the ridge where we were to make camp for the night.
The rest of the group hung back, as if sensing that I wanted – needed – to be alone. I scrambled over the ridge of rock and found myself in a circular clearing. The ground was rocky and uneven in places. The area was shielded by trees and I was relieved to not see one of those weeping willows, even though as the wind blew by, I was sure I could still hear them sobbing.
Walking to the outermost edge, I leant against a large rock and watched the others climb into the clearing. Potter glanced across at me and winked. Leaving the others, he came towards me.
“How you doing, tiger?” he whispered, popping a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.
“Just leave me alone,” I told him.
“If you say you saw your dad in those woods, then I believe you,” he said hunkering down beside me.
“And what about Kayla?” I hissed.
Shrugging his huge shoulders, he blew smoke from the corner of his mouth and said, “Did you really see her, Kiera?”
“I saw her!” I snapped and stared into his eyes.
Staring back into mine, Potter said, “Okay, I believe you.”
“My dad was a ghost, I can accept that,” I told him. “But Kayla wasn’t. She was really there.”
“Okay,” he said. “I don’t claim to understand why, but I believe you.”
“Why?” I pushed.
Looking back over his shoulder at the others and then back at me he whispered, “Because I saw one or two of my own demons hiding out in those woods.”
“Who?” I breathed.
“You wouldn’t know him,” Potter said.
“Who?” I insisted.
“A Lycanthrope,” he told me, not meeting my gaze as if he felt ashamed in some way. “His name was Drake, and he paid the price for crimes he didn’t commit.”
“Why didn’t you say this back in the woods?” I hissed. “Why did you let everyone think I was going mad?”
“Because I’m starting to believe that this Elias Munn wants you and everyone else to believe you’re going mad. He wants us to question your judgment, Kiera – to stop people from having faith in you.”
“And what about you?” I asked him. “Do you have faith in me, Potter?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he smiled and winked at me. Then, without saying another word, he stood, dropped his smouldering cigarette butt, ground it out with the heel of his boot, and walked away. I sat and looked at that cigarette butt and recalled the one I had seen by the weeping willow. I continued to look at it while the others set up camp and the sky turned black.
Taking my iPod, I switched it on. Rolling onto my side and closing my eyes, I lay and listened to Will Young sing Leave Right Now, and I wished that I could.
Chapter Twenty-One
“She can’t be!” The pathologist murmured as she hovered over me, scalpel only inches from my good eye.
“I’m alive in here!” I screamed inside my head. Got to get that scalpel away from me! Got to get that…
Then, without thought, more by instinct, I thrust out my hand and took hold of the pathologist’s wrist. I curled the three fingers on my right hand with such force that the pathologist screamed, fearing her wrist bone would disintegrate.
“Get that thing away from me!” I yelled, but the words didn’t sound anything like that. They came out sounding slushy, like water lapping against the side of a bath. My tongue rolled against the inside of my mouth and spittle sprayed from the small, circular opening where my lips had once been.
“Slet sat sing sway rom smeee!” I screamed again, jerking the pathologist’s arm to the right and sending the scalpel flying across the lab. The guy with the needle ducked, then slipped backwards and crashed into a silver trolley that toppled over and sent surgical equipment cla
ttering across the room.
The police officer backed away and began fumbling for his radio which was attached to his shirt. Groaning, the pathologist fell away, holding her wrist to her chest. I swung my legs over the edge of the mortuary slab and stood naked before them. My legs began to buckle in the middle and I staggered forward, leaning against the tiled wall of the mortuary to keep my balance.
“Slothes!” I screeched at them, holding out the two fingers that dangled from my left hand. “Slothes!”
“What?” the Pathologist mumbled, her face as white as her medical coat.
“Slothes!” I said again, through the hole in my face.
“She wants her clothes,” the police officer said, stepping away from the wall on the opposite side of the mortuary.
I looked at him with my one bloodshot eye and nodded in
agreement. “Slothes,” I said again, holding out what was left of my hands. “Slothes spleese.”
“Give the girl her clothes,” the officer ordered to the lab assistant.
I watched as the assistant gathered my clothes from a nearby workbench. Everything appeared to be in infrared. The assistant came towards me like a child nearing a dog that had a history of biting. When he was within a few feet of me, the lab assistant chucked the clothes in a ball at my feet.
Bending, I picked up the black overalls and threaded one of my legs into them. Lurching from side to side, I looked at the lab assistant and shouted, “Selp smee!”
The assistant looked at me, trying to decipher what it was that I wanted.
“Help her put her clothes on,” the officer said as he tried to remove his radio from his shirt hoping he hadn’t drawn my attention to what he was planning to do.
Coming forward, the assistant bent down and pulled the legs of the overalls up to my waist. I leant against him for support and the assistant shuddered under my icy touch and…
Chapter Twenty-Two
